#but for him i also considered burn by upon a burning body

[scariusaquarius]

rehab. 15.

Avenger! Bucky Barnes x Winter Soldier! Fem! Reader

Summary: While on a mission to find any more possible super soldiers that were a part of the Winter Soldier program, Steve and Bucky make a discovery in an abandoned HYDRA base that was cleared out a few years prior to their mission. They discover the Reader, a long-forgotten soldier that was still asleep within a functioning cryostasis pod; still awaiting orders. While Bucky isn't happy about it, he is put up to the challenge of helping to rehabilitate the soldier in Wakanda where she may be able to become a person again.

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A/n: I'M SO SORRY THAT THIS TOOK SO LONG. Shit in my life hit a royal fan, so that took a lot of my immediate attention. So, we got into Tony's head, and now I think we should jump into the other groups now <3 Also, if you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee! If you would prefer to read Rehab on Archive, you may do so right HERE!

This is an au where Bucky joined the avengers but still rehabilitated in Wakanda (sometime before Infinity War [canon divergent cause NOPE]). I am NOT fluent in Russian, so I did use google translate cause I couldn't find a good translator that I trusted. If anything is wrong, PLEASE let me know!! Also, I tried to list as many warnings as possible so you know what the story will contain as chapters are posted. Stay safe!

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Genre: Slowburn, Enemies to Lovers/Friends to Lovers, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Humor, Drama, Dark Content Rated: Explicit Warning: Angst, Dark Content: Graphic Depictions of Sexual Assault, Blood and Gore, Mentions of Manipulation, Kidnapping, Canon-Typical Violence, Body Horror, Nonconsensual Body Modification/Scarring, Emotional and Physical Abuse, Mentions of Murder, Mentions of Suicidal Thoughts/Ideation, Graphic Depictions of Human Remains, Mentions of Sexual Coercion/Manipulation, Death, Misuse of Drugs/Forced Drugging, Self-Harm (Graphic Depictions and Mentions), Nightmares

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Author: ScariusAquarius

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rehab masterlist. chapter 14

Steve could still remember the way the HYDRA base had smelled the first time he had seen Bucky since he'd gone missing in action during World War II. The burning oil from the guns, the smoke and iron from explosions and blood staining the air like wine on white, and the smell of ozone just before it began to rain. It was all as though it was yesterday despite it being almost 80 years since then.

80 years since he last saw Peggy Carter.

Well, Steve guessed he could count the times he saw her after he woke up; her old and frail body reminding him of the time he had lost since he went under the ice...her casket heavy upon Steve's shoulder when he carried her to the hearse the day of her funeral.

But it didn't take away the feelings of regret and sorrow. Steve didn't regret putting the plane beneath the ice, but he did regret never getting that raincheck for their dance. Even so, Steve knew that Peggy would have wanted him to be happy; to keep fighting for what he believed in; to keep fighting for the little guys.

And so that's what Steve did. He kept fighting, kept saving, kept advocating, and yet it never felt like it was enough. Even when he saved Bucky, Steve still felt as though something was missing. There was never enough records, old antiques that weren't actually antiques to him, never enough clothes that felt right; it all just reminded him that he was living in a time that wasn't his own.

But unlike (Y/n) (L/n), he'd been allotted a lot of time to get used to the new world. Granted, Steve still couldn't stand the hustle and bustle and the noise of the New World, but Steve imagined that it was ten times harder for her. Hell, he still couldn't stand fireworks, and Bucky downright sobbed during the holidays because of them.

Steve sighed as he thumbed at the worn lensatic compass that still held that pretty picture of Peggy in it, and he couldn't help but to look at the picture, pursing his lips.

Yes, Steve understood what it meant to be out of place and because of that, it made him determined to help those that were like him and Bucky if and when he met them.

When he came across the female Winter Soldier with Bucky, Steve had felt shocked yet relieved for having found this woman, and though Bucky had been so reluctant to save her from staying frozen until the end of time, Steve couldn't help but feel determined to defrost her and save her, Peggy's words repeating in his head like a mantra.

"The world has changed, and none of us can go back. All we can do is our best, and sometimes, the best that we can do, is to start over."

Just like him and Bucky, this woman also deserved a chance to start over; to be free of what HYDRA had done to her, and though Steve didn't want to admit it, he couldn't help but to see Bucky again when he looked at this woman.

Though, even Steve knew that what they had done to her had been ten times worse given the horrific scars that had been covering her body. Steve hadn't watched any of the recorded clips that Shuri had obtained while working on the woman's programming, but given the way Shuri, Tony, and Bucky had been acting since being shown the clips, Steve didn't even want to watch them.

Even he knew that he might lose his cool for once.

It made it even worse when Steve discovered that Jack Rollins had been her Handler. Did Brock know, too? Did he also Handle this woman under the guise that it was 'nothing personal'?

"Still feels personal," Steve muttered to himself. Steve became aware of Sam leaning against the wall beside him, his arms crossed and looking ahead as they waited for Thor to arrive at their location to begin their investigation.

"You know, I think you really just like missing person cases. Have you thought of being a detective?"

Steve couldn't help but to chuckle as he glanced at Sam, stating with a small smile.

"I thought about it, but I don't think I'd be satisfied like I am now."

Sam barked out a laugh, shaking his head as he gestured to Steve's shield with a raised brow.

"Just can't seem to stay away, huh?"

"I know, it follows me everywhere, man."

The two men chuckled, and Sam stared at Steve for a moment, noticing the downtrodden look crawl back upon the old Captain's face, and he pointed out to Steve.

"You seem like you're back in the trenches."

Steve chuckled before shaking his head slightly, teasing gently.

"I never was actually in the trenches, so that might be a question for Bucky rather than me."

Sam shook his head a bit as well, making a face at Steve before stating.

"Well, I'm not about to go make a quick trip to ask. Seriously, man, what's on your mind?"

Steve pursed his lips tightly before he admitted to Sam, giving the man a worried look.

"I'm just...worried about the woman is all. With Bucky's rehabilitation, it hadn't been easy for him...and it still isn't, if I'm honest. I'm worried that he might have been right...if it would have been better for us to leave her frozen so she wouldn't be in danger like she is."

Sam glanced over at Steve, regarding him with a thoughtful look before he crossed his arms and replied thoughtfully.

"I think you're overthinking it, Steve. Even if you'd have left her there, she would have been in the same amount of danger as she is now."

Steve looked over at Sam, giving the man his undivided attention as Sam continued to speak his mind.

"Just like with Bucky, you strived to advocate for her; to give her a life and the ability to choose who she wants to be. If you ask me, that's a pretty big deal...especially considering who and what she is. You surrounded her with people that actually want to help her and not use her. I think that you and I both know that this is going to be a difficult road, but I also know it'll be worth it to see her blossom into herself and not what HYDRA wanted her to be. Just like with Bucky."

Sam clasped Steve's shoulder, giving him a firm look.

"You did the right thing, Steve...and if that doesn't make you think so...then I think at least Peggy would have been proud."

Steve couldn't help but to furrow his brows at the mention of Peggy, glancing down at the compass again, and he shook his head.

"No wonder you're a speaker at the VA. You're pretty good at this."

"You have to be. Sometimes you're the only thing a brother or a sister has left."

The two men couldn't help but to jolt as the Bifrost Bridge suddenly came crashing down beside them with a bang of thunder, Thor Odinson shaking his shoulders a little bit as a spark of lightning crawled over his chest as he appeared.

"I did not anticipate how difficult a phone could be. What's even the point of it when you could just tell me what I need to know in person. Even a raven would suffice. Less problems."

Sam couldn't help but to ask as he brushed off the invisible dust from his uniform as Steve gave Thor an understanding look.

"I don't reckon you get great service from Asgard, huh?"

"Terrible, actually, I couldn't even hear a word Tony Stark was saying...which isn't really tragic."

Steve nodded a bit before he asked Thor, the God of Thunder giving him a curious look.

"I don't suppose you were able to hear what was going on all the while?"

Thor then made a face as if trying to remember the interaction with Tony, saying.

"Well, I think I hung up when Tony said to meet you here, so not really."

Steve almost lost his composure, closing his eyes and shaking his head while Sam just snorted, crossing his arms.

"Right. We're going after a HYDRA operative by the name of Jack Rollins. We don't really know where he is, but the site that we're going to is a possible location. Even if he's not there, we're going to eradicate any possible activity. It's about time that HYDRA is stopped once and for all. Tony was able to capture an image of the base, so we should get moving."

The three of them began to journey to the HYDRA base, Thor asking as they walked and kept an eye out for danger.

"So, what is the significance of this human? Other than the fact that he is apart of this...horrible organization, it seems there is more to this than I am being informed of."

Steve gave Thor a look, almost like a brother chastising the other.

"Well, if you hadn't hung up on Tony, he would have been able to tell you."

Thor just waved off Steve, shrugging his shoulders a little bit as they began to approach the HYDRA base.

"His theatrics annoy me."

Steve wisely elected not to comment, instead giving Thor the rundown of the last couple of weeks.

"Bucky and I rescued a woman that was a part of the Winter Soldier program...probably created right after Bucky was. We've been trying to rehabilitate her and free her from HYDRA's mind control, but we've been having issues. Jack Rollins was her Handler, and he's been controlling her remotely...probably for a while."

Thor then hummed, saying with a raised brow as he swung Mjolnir around.

"It sounds as though this is personal."

"Potentially. What matters the most is that we eradicate HYDRA. If not for her or Bucky, then for the world. This is a dangerous group of people that are willing to do whatever it takes to gain complete control."

Thor sighed heavily, looking down at the hammer in his hands, scrunching his nose a little bit as he spoke while pointing Mjolnir at Steve.

"Well, even so, I understand the need to protect the honor of a maiden, so I shall accompany you to this HYDRA base and we shall cut off every head of the beast until the earth is pouring with its blood."

Sam and Steve stared at Thor for a moment before Sam asked him with a squint.

"Did you just come up with that on the spot or are you always this poetic?"

Thor shrugged, giving Sam a thoughtful expression as he replied.

"It comes and goes. My mother used to recite the Vǫluspá to Loki and I when we were younger."

 Sam just gave Steve a look, and the old Avenger just shrugged his shoulders before asking the two men.

"Are you guys ready? We're closing in."

Thor then asked as Steve and Sam began to carefully maneuver through the trees to stay out of sight while the God continued to walk as if there was no threat imminent.

"Do you think that I could meet this woman? I think it'll be fascinating. Are female Winter Soldier's different than males? Can she kick Barnes' ass like a Valkyrie?"

Steve pursed his lips, glancing back at Thor with a raised brow.

"Do you want to find out?"

"Well, I think a round or two would be healthy. You know, gauge her skills...see where she can improve."

Sam gave Steve a questioning look.

"Didn't she put a knife through the quinjet windshield? You know, the one made with synthesized AM-III carbon?"

"I don't know what that is."

Thor pointed out with a confused look on his face, and Steve just replied.

"It's strong as hell."

Thor just nodded before he gestured to the large building that they had approached.

"This is the supposed base?"

"Yes. We want to try to be as inconspicuous as possible just in case there is activity."

When Thor didn't respond, Steve and Sam both looked back with a confused look before the sound of thunder and lightning crashing down on the building made the two Avengers fill with dread.

"Is there anybody in the Avengers initiative that actually listens to you?"

Steve just sighed and replied.

"Let's just follow him."

The mission began then, the two men desperately chasing after the God as Thor flew through the building. What perturbed Steve, however, was the fact that there seemed to be no fighting. No yells, no gunshots, no explosions.

Silence.

The place was empty, barren of any furniture and equipment nor documents. It was as though it had been completely cleaned out. Thor came back with a frown, stating as he looked around with confusion.

"The rest of the area is completely barren. Nobody has been here for a while."

"Did you check the lower levels?"

Thor glanced back at the hole he had created on the floor, scratching the back of his head.

"I think so."

Sam shook his head, adjusting his goggles so that they were sitting on top of his head.

"That just doesn't make any sense. It's almost as if they know where we're looking and are cleaning everything out right under our noses."

Steve pursed his lips and looked at Thor.

"You're positive that there was nothing in the building?"

Thor frowned, crossing his arms.

"Why would I be dishonest to you?"

Sam pursed his lips again before he asked.

"What if they have someone on the inside already?"

Thor and Steve looked at Sam with similar expressions of dread. Sam shrugged and continued.

"We know that HYDRA is scary-good at infiltrations and establishing themselves in even the most secure places in the world. In a kingdom of thousands, a rat is bound to get through somehow, especially when the King is already preoccupied with trying to find a specific person. It's just like Nat said: it's easier to get things done when the attention isn't on you."

Thor pointed towards Steve, stating.

"We should get to Wakanda as soon as possible. If he is right, then that means the maiden and your friend are in danger of this foul beast. I can get us there almost immediately using the Bifrost Bridge so they are not devoured by the HYDRA."

Both Steve and Sam give Thor a questioning look.

"You...know it's not a real beast, right?"

Thor made a face at them both.

"Of course I knew that...I just thought it'd be poetic."

Thor looked away, but Sam could still see the embarrassed look on the god's face before he looked to Steve, who was shaking his head to get back on track.

"Listen, we can't just leave the quinjet behind. Stark will have my ass about it."

Steve protested, and Sam clasped his shoulder with a frown.

"You two go on ahead, I'll fly that bird home. Bucky and (Y/n) are in danger, Steve. The quicker you get there, the better off they'll be."

Steve nodded and Thor grabbed the captain's shoulder, nodding to Sam.

"Good luck."

With a strange sound of surging energy, the Bifrost suddenly crashed down upon Thor and Steve, leaving Sam where he was standing as he watched the bridge disappear, and Sam couldn't help but mutter to himself.

"One of these days....just you wait."

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STORY NOTES: Steve recalls the HYDRA base that he had found Bucky in after Bucky went missing back in WWII. He recalls the smell of smoke, burnt gun oil, and other scents during that time, and Steve makes a note that he could still remember that day clearly. He begins to think about Peggy Carter and his regrets and sorrows of not getting to spend his life with her like he wanted to, and so to honor her, he continues to fight for those around him.

He begins to sympathize with (Y/n) (L/n) and how it must be jarring for her to be thrust into an era she is not from, and the struggles that came with adjusting to a new world. He recalls that when he had found her, Bucky had been reluctant to save her, but Steve was determined because of the memory of a quote that Peggy had said to him before she passed away.

After some more personal reflections, Steve is greeted by Sam Wilson, who jokes with Steve to lighten the mood. When he is unsuccessful, Sam asks Steve what is on his mind. Steve opens up to Sam about his worries and how he is wondering if Steve had done the right thing in defrosting the woman, and Sam is adamant that Steve had done the right thing. He tells Steve that he thinks Peggy would have been proud, and Steve begins to feel better.

The moment is interrupted with the arrival of Thor Odinson, who makes a complaint about the difficulty of cellular devices and how it would have been much easier for someone to send a raven to him. Sam makes a joke about the reception in Asgard, to which Thor quips that he couldn't hear what Tony was saying and it 'wasn't really tragic'. Steve asks Thor if he was able to hear the mission details, and Thor reveals that he actually hung up on Tony, not that he had bad reception.

Steve begins to go into details about their mission and what the plan is, and Thor makes a comment that the mission seemed personal. Steve is vague with his response, but neither Thor nor Sam comment about it. When Thor mentions cutting off 'every head of the beast', Sam makes a joke, in which Thor replies that his mother used to read the Vǫluspá to him and Loki when they were younger.

As they approach the base, Thor makes a inquiry about female Winter Soldier's and if they were as strong and skilled as Valkyries, in which Sam and Steve both imply that (Y/n) is most likely on par with one since she was able to embed a knife into the strongest glass in the world. After a while, the three arrive to the base, and though Steve tries to plan out a strategic entrance, Thor immediately begins to assault the base.

Steve makes a note that the place seems deadly silent and completely barren, no furniture or desks in sight. Thor comes back with a similar report, telling Steve that the base is completely abandoned, and Sam makes a comment that it seems as though HYDRA already seems to know where the Avengers will be looking. He inquires about a possible infiltration in Wakanda, and Thor tells Steve that they should get to Wakanda as soon as possible. Thor and Steve leaving using the Bifrost Bridge while Sam stays behind to take the quinjet home. End scene.

TRANSLATIONS:

Vǫluspá: "The Prophecy of the Völva [Seeress]". It is one of the most famous and important poems in the Poetic Edda, which is a collection of Old Norse mythos and poems. The Vǫluspá goes into detail about Norse Mythology, including the creation of the world, its current state, and its ultimate destruction during Ragnarök—the apocalyptic battle of the gods—and subsequent rebirth.

Valkyrie: [Valkyrja] "Chooser of the Slain": A warrior faction of Norse Mythology often depicted as powerful Asgardian women who serve Odin. Their main role is to choose which Asgardian warrior will live or die in battle. They also guide the fallen warrior to Valhalla, Odin's great hall in Asgard where the warriors [known as Einherjar] prepare for Ragnarök

TAGLIST: @tilldeathripsusapart @vicmc624 @mgchaser @aash3 @samfunko @seventeen-x @valckenaux @babybeeelle @sc4rrc @cjand10 @bane-y-zane

[sunlessea]

he supposes it doesn't think him the type for such serious reminiscing. how it would have gawked in awe, had it ever met him in his days as a helsing pup proper - such a noble heir he'd once been, with his head held high on his shoulder, presenting himself above everyone around him, most of all masters like itself. he's thankful it hadn't, though. he's not sure he ever could've looked at it with such kindness as he does now, in his time as cassius ashburnum. it never would have trusted him again, had it been irons he had fought that day he burned the bazaar down, rather than mr fires. now, he can rest his hands at either side of its neck and it does not seem to even consider the possibly that he would wrap them around its neck.

the thought had been there, when they'd first begun interacting. it had assumed this a ploy of some sort, to hunt it, surely. in this position, he could kill it, if he tried. catch it by some manner of surprise, and finish a job long forgotten. it trusts him, he notes, as he gently strokes his thumb along its jawline. its ears are flat 'gainst its head, claws gentle alone his sides ... as much as they can be, from a beast not accustomed to playing so nice.

"i believe that you trust me, and i don't think you could trust me if you didn't love me. but i also believe that if someone is incapable of telling another person their feelings out loud ... then they don't love them enough." his answer is honest, where he has not always been. his hands lower from its shoulders again to gently tug at some of the fabric its bundled in, layer upon layer of cloaks. they were already falling off as it had been, but now he parts some of them further. it is only enough, in the end, to expose some small section of its chest - enough that he may slip his hand underneath and sprawl his palm open over the lacking beat of its heart. there's no gentle thrum inside of it, like his own, no candle lit for mr irons to feign its humanity.

he wonders, yet doesn't ask. maybe it's never had very much reason to wish for human things : a heartbeat, air, passion, pleasure, love, tears, raw emotion. just like him, in an age long past. but he desires now, more than anything. enough for both of them, how his heart races, his cheeks flush, his eyes water.

but maybe it isn't so far off.

"how fondly? in what ways do you think of me? fondly enough that you want to kiss me, but not so that you will tell me that you love me. you don't know your own heart, do you? you didn't even know you had one." he is patient, even when he isn't. his own ears flatten, his expression both lonesome and yearning in his understanding. he would wait forever ... but watching the pieces slowly fall into place makes his heart ache. he wants it to love him so badly. he wants it to want him, too. "you say carnality, i just call it romance. i'm used to being misunderstood, but i want you to understand me. as a poet of veilgarden, i've turned down countless men and women in this city who sought carnal pleasure. i can't let someone touch me who doesn't love me. i just can't. my heart is my body and if anyone ever took advantage of my heart, i would kill myself."

his dramatics do not end with everyday banter or vivacious teases - but even through flowery self deprecation, he is so very serious. its hands on his hips stabilize him, however, giving him something to focus on so he doesn't lose himself in romantic reverie. by time he is done with its cloaks, the last bits of them only cling to irons' arms, and that is not something he can push off on his own. so he stares down at it, fingers tracing lines of its muscles once more. his expression is far away, distant, but not sad. he's lost in thought, paying mind to every spot that makes it shudder when his fingers move over them. it's more sensitive than he'd thought.

it grabs his attention again when it speaks, and he looks up at it with wide, doe - like eyes, curious and contemplative. before it even clarifies the heavy burden it offers him, he's taken by it, his tail swaying gently behind him with expectation. the more secure it squeezes his hips as it lifts itself to sit with him on its lap, the faster his tail starts to wag, ears at last perking up once more. for how seriously he'd worn his melancholy, his expression melts easily into tender reverence, smile 'pon his lips with narrowed eyes as their noses touch. he shifts with it, raising his arms up to wrap 'round its shoulders and pull it in closer so they can sit comfortably face - to - face. "you are not a burden, mr irons. your heart is a gift."

maybe he should've expected it to kiss him, how it had been shifting to close the space 'tween them again ... but he is still a little surprised, all the same. the second time it less brutal than the first, and as a result, less awkward - the harsh press of its lips 'gainst his own is much less feral, though still quite rough. it's charming, in a way. he thinks this is its attempt at kindness, and he does not tease it for that. he falls into line, pulling it down harder by its shoulders and letting it part his lips against its once more, 'til its tongue finds his own. he's able to shift in its lap until his legs comfortably rest at its sides, knees pressing into its thighs as his fingers tangle through its hair. its need is met by his own passion, a loving romantic at his core, even in the depths of spiraling desire, albeit of a purer context than his admissions of fantasy would suggest.

humanity is hardly so simple for those born inhuman. to neatly box the wild and often inconsistent flux of its feelings into something kine could comprehend, to balance learned nature with its basal instinct—its love resulting comes intertwined with a certain hunger. and that is difficult to explain, more than just a comfortable warmth against its chest, more than excitement, or an ache in its stomach, it is, above all else, an intense and indomitable craving. it feels it 'cross every inch of its body, inside and out, with every kiss he steals and how earnestly he wraps himself around it.

the way he touches it drives it absolutely mad, in a way it is not wholly certain that it actually minds : it is naught like anything it, personally, had it proffer a more accurate definition, fantasized, and it thinks it might then be the surprise of it that leaves it feeling so willfully captured. his fingers tracing 'gainst subtle ripples of muscle and skin follow a trail so delightfully sensitive in ways it could never have expected, untouched as it had been in its self-imposed isolation. it likes the warmth it feels 'neath his palms, against his body, his breath against its lips the few moments their lips part and how it feels his breathing quiver with each slow, arduous draw of its tongue over the wound begged-open 'neath its teeth; it likes how he always beckons it closer with his blood still on its tongue, deepening their kiss with venture of his own will. it likes how its body cannot decide, in continued conflict of its own heart, if it should purr or growl, and how often it alternates 'tween both muffled by his lips.

not to say that it is without surprise when his body shifts. though it is, perhaps, more muted a shock than t'would otherwise be, were he any other. and it may as well be purely for the lack of force, rather than strength—it feels when his leg hooks even tighter 'cross its back, the subtle pressure of his heel pressing into its side, but this too feels more like he is simply beckoning it follow his lead. and that is the bigger surprise, how simply it relents.

this, yes, has it growl. but that is merely natural response for any predator proper pushed to such a vulnerable point. even fully clothed, having rolled gently 'pon its back with his encouragement, it feels so exposed laying beneath him! it mourns the taste of him, same as the pressure of his lips, but it is stalled in its own personal languishing by how sternly he seems look back at it—it can't recall a moment he's ever been so, even when they'd first met. and that, more than anything, piques its interest and begs its attention.

better would it be the sort of blushing maiden with heat rushing to flood her cheeks at such a thought, than how stone-faced it is in their reality. there is no pretty poetry to weave how it stares up at him, wide-eyed and ears slowly pressing 'gainst its head for cause of ... not embarrassment, quite, but something like— it has heard far cruder things, years passed before they ever crossed paths, but it thinks it is his clarification most that his its chest constrict, fang pulling the soft flesh of its cheek 'neath to chew as it tries to pretend it is not quite so affected as it most certainly is. it is not shy, but it is not ... this particularly brazen, either. he definitely is special.

" do you believe i love you? " its voice feels particularly hoarse, even to it : and it presumes it is only cause for how often it was stolen in their heated exchange, every gasp or moan or plea stifled by each their eager tongues. but even so, its tone is cautious; careful, where what little inflection it is able to offer cannot otherwise be misconstrued for rejection. its chest aches too, feeling how his hands continue making their way 'cross its skin, the bulk of its body, but that nagging pull has grown increasingly familiar in the passing weeks. it considers itself lucky merely only shuddering when his fingers brush over dips along its body that are more sensitive than most. the tension ebbs and flows, but its fixation 'pon him is unwavering.

it thinks its gaze shakes while he speaks, rapt, a subtle quiver align with the occasional shiver that runs its way through its body. it's a far different tone than how he has ever approached it—and yet, it is somehow just the same. desire spoken from the heart, a romantic at his core, no matter how salacious the tale he could weave, he hardly need speak of the love he feels for it for it to comprehend. it hurts when it swallows, 'round the growing lump in its throat.

" it ... is true, the subjects of which my thoughts have drifted to. i have thought about what it might have been like to kiss you more than i am open to admit. though i do— ... did not understand the process. i desired to. i do think of you fondly. in numerous ways, and that is strange to me. " like would he be to forgive it, its quiet voice; barely above murmur, that, as it gradually takes to unraveling its hold 'round his waist, slowly pulling its hands down over his hips as it speaks, " i would never think less of you for carnality. i think you are naive, at your best, but physicality or need for is hardly my concern. i do not understand you, or what you have done to me. of that, i feel as if i no longer know myself. "

his hair tickles its cheek, its jaw; shrouds them where what few parts of its cloaks still cling to it offer little protection from the intensity of his gaze. " it is a heavy burden to ask of you, elysium, but ... " it starts, but pauses soon after; its hands have settled neatly over his hips, and though it does squeeze them long enough to beckon even more of his attention, it uses its tight grip as means to steady itself as it lifts itself up to brush its nose up 'gainst his own. once more, merely a breath apart—and it really does savor the feeling, nearly more than the blood it still knows clings to his lips. and its too, though it's quick to swipe that away as it pulls itself closer to him. hands travelling slow from hip to side, pressing down gently 'long the slight curve of his waist. " —perhaps you might be willing to bring clarity to my own heart? " it has not suddenly become anymore confident in the gesture as it had started. but it is difficult to be too clumsy, this close. no sooner has it finished speaking before it closes the distance; and once more, it pushes its lips hard against his own. not in curiosity, or even impulse : it needs him.

[twilightakiishi]

I wanna request for the song thingy as well 🥺🥺🥺🥺

Lemme get Kazutora & Kakucho 🥺👉🏼👈🏼

Please and thank youuuuuuuuu 😘😘😘

hi lola !!!

kazutora: ITS A TWO PART SONG OK THE FIRST ONE FADES INTO THE SECOND ONE. SO.

kakucho:

send me a character and i'll give you a song that reminds me of them!

[versupital]

run, rabbit, run

JJK HALLOWEEN! nanamixreader

summary ❥ you babysit for the wealthy single dad who lives across the street. it’s the end of october and his halloween party is the talk of the neighborhood. you’re not invited because the kids are out of town, but you decide to pop up on him anyway, and he shows you just how badly he’s been dying to get you alone without the children.

CONTENT: age gap, 86’d sorcery, dilf!nanami, toys, smut, alcohol, dom!nanami, cunnilingus, afab!reader, fluff, friends to lovers kinda, bossxworker, aftercare, slowwwww burn, reader wears animal ears during sex, breeding kink, spit kink, masochism.

word count. 10k

soundtrack 💿: eating - madeintyo

p.s. there’s a joke in here involving the color of 🐱; i know everyone’s is not the same color so , fill in the blank for the color that fits yours if u have one LOL

✩

You give your ass a good shake.

You’re making sure the long, fluffy tail poking out of your blue shorts isn’t going to fall out. It doesn’t.

You’re dressed as a fox, but not just any fox. A fox cop. You have on a short blue collared top, matching shorts, and of course you’d be no real cop without your utility belt housing fake handcuffs and a plastic baton. To top it all off, you’re wearing fuzzy fox ears on your head, and sheer tights to cover your legs.

You nod in the mirror, satisfied. But the real test, to you, is if Mr. Nanami will like it just as much.

Mr. Nanami is your employer, but more importantly, your neighbor. You watch his two young children five days a week; sometimes even overnight when he has a particularly busy work day. You consider yourself close with them, but your feelings about Nanami are a little deeper than that.

You’d seen him the first time a little under a year ago, when he’d been out on an early morning jog. From then, on you’d become disgustingly obsessed ever since.

Your schoolgirl pining only gets worse every time you see him, and recently you've even gone as far as trying to shamelessly flirt - but he seems to have absolutely no idea. That is the less painful explanation, the other being that he’s just not interested.

But you’re planning to see if you can get that to change tonight. You always dress sensible in front of his children; this will be the first time he's seeing so much skin. It has to work, right?

Tonight, Nanami is throwing the party of the century. He has house workers of all kinds who serve towers of food and delicious mixed drinks. The cherry is that his entire gated lawn has been decorated to the perimeter of fun inflatables and spooky decorations. You know it's mostly for his kids, whom he goes nothing short of above and beyond for.

However, he had informed you days ago that they would be out of town this weekend - and, even if they were not, he's off work, so he doesn’t need you. This means he also had not invited you to his party.

You clearly still intend to show up unannounced, a bold move on your part.

You lock up your house - a small, co-owned property that truly looks out of place across from Nanami's home - which he technically pays the rent for. You carefully make your away across the overcrowded street full of cars, decorations, and humans who are already half past drunk.

As you walk up the stone steps that lead to his front door, your stomach is keyed up. You shouldn't feel any different than you normally do when coming over for work, but you’ve really let this highly unprofessional crush of yours get out of control.

You make it to the porch. You're unsure if he will even hear the doorbell, but you press it anyway. The door slides open after about ten seconds, as if he has been standing there watching it. You feel your body freeze immediately upon seeing him.

Nanami is towering over you in the threshold. His face lights up almost instantly, but that's not all that has your heart threatening to crack open your rib cage; it's also his delicious white button down, popped open by a few to reveal tiny bits of blond chest hair, and then of course there are the long, white ears on top of his head.

“Why hello, officer, did we get a noise complaint?” He chuckles at his own dad joke before bowing his head in greeting. “Sorry, I’m just surprised to see you. I figured you would be thrilled to not have to look at these four walls for a few days while my children are with... their mother.”

You watch his face drop in disgust at the mention of his ex-wife, but he’s never said anything bad about her. Whenever you’d asked why things hadn’t worked out, he’d said "they just didn't." And that was that, but part of you aches to know what had happened.

It shouldn’t matter. He is not interested in you. He gives you a paycheck, and that is all.

"Well," you begin carefully, "Who would want to miss out on the most exclusive Halloween party of the year?"

This coerces a deep laugh out of Nanami, then he steps aside and allows you to walk in. He is holding a short rocks glass of unidentified brown liquor, and you can smell whatever it is in a cloud around him.

Once inside, Nanami’s voice is quite muffled from the clank of dishes and bustle of workers. The two of you stop to stand in the foyer, a grand crystal chandelier winking at you from above.

"Exclusive isn't the word I'd use," he says, following your eyes as he takes a sip. "Everyone and their mother is here. Literally." He tilts his glass towards an elderly woman who stands next to a redhead about Nanami's age.

You should be laughing at his joke but instead, your stomach knots grow tighter at the reminder of how many people his age are here preying on him, the neighborhood catch, with careers and homes of their own.

Nanami is seven years your senior, you think. No wonder he wants nothing to do with a young, non career-oriented thing like you when he has all of these sophisticated people crawling at his feet.

You can't think about that now, or the courage you’ve spent a week building will cease to exist.

"Heh - well, either way," you continue, "it's a big party. I know the kids aren't here, but-"

"But I'm glad you are," Nanami smiles, his eyelids hanging a little low from the liquor in his system. "You look very nice, darling. I like your ears."

He grins and points to his own headband. A grown and very, very large man dressed as something as vulnerable as a little rabbit has your nerves aflame.

"Hmm, I bet you do," you tease. “Like it so much you had to copy me?”

Nanami makes a disapproving sound with his tongue, leaning forward a bit to be eye level with you. "Copy you? I was unaware that rabbits and foxes were the same animal. In fact," he adds, "if I'm not mistaken, foxes are a rabbit's natural predator."

You had been trying to look away from him now that he has moved so close, but as the last sentence rolls out of his mouth, you make the mistake of looking directly into his eyes - and what you see makes your limbs jelly. Maybe it's your delusions, but he seems to be drinking you up equally as much as he is his liquor.

You laugh to pop the bubble of tension, but Nanami's face remains as still as ice.

"Well, I certainly don't think I pose a threat to you, sir," you say, voice unnervingly dry. "You are twice my size."

At this, his intense stare transitions into a soft smile. "You just have to get my guard down. Then, I'm sure a little thing like yourself would be able to have your way with me."

You blink quickly, assuming you've misheard him. Then again, though, he tends to say things that could be flirty - but he is just a naturally charismatic man. Means nothing.

"Ah," you mumble out, shifting your weight from side to side. You have to find a way to change the subject, but most importantly, you need get his attention off of you. You’d wanted it so bad, now you don’t know how to handle it. As you scheme, he sips his drink again, eyes still watching you over the rim of the glass.

"So... the kids always go with their mom on Halloween?" you ask abruptly.

Nanami quickly swallows his sip before shaking his head. "Well I had them for the Fourth of July, you recall."

You do recall. A little too well. Nanami in nothing but tight, black swim shorts and his signature sunglasses as he flipped meat over the grill - and you playing in his pool with the kids. He’d invited you to celebrate the holiday with him after his kids had begged, but your mind was definitely elsewhere. The memory popping into your head almost makes you not hear what he says next.

"We alternate holidays. So I will have them for Thanksgiving, she for Christmas," he shrugs a shoulder. "I would have traded Thanksgiving for Christmas, but alas. Christmas is always the busiest day of the year for me, so they would just miss out on time with their father anyway. I couldn't ask you to ditch your holiday plans for us, again, either."

He sighs. You feel your heart ache; he cares deeply about his kids, but he is definitely a workaholic. That is why you spend every chance you get at his house… well, that’s mostly why. But even then, you sometimes wish you stayed more to help, because Nanami works tireless double shifts, then spends his off days trying to make up for lost time with the kids.

"Don't be so hard on yourself," you say, attempting to comfort him. "You're an amazing father who is doing all he can. They love you so much."

He smiles and bows his head politely, so as to say thank you. "They love you as well. Sometimes, I think more than they do their mother."

You swallow a choke, before rutting out, “Surely not."

Before Nanami has the chance to reply, an older woman who you’d come to known as Agnes walks by with a large tray arraignment of bright green cocktails.

“Nanamin!” she shrieks out. “Where would you like me to put these? Very afraid of them falling. There’s drunkards crawling up the walls! I’ve already swept up sixteen broken glasses! Sixteen!”

You and Nanami turn to look at her with an equally astonished expression.

Nanami leans forward a bit to whisper in your ear, “My apologies in advance for her erratic behavior.”

Agnes is still staring wildly between the two of you as you giggle, awaiting further instructions from Nanami.

“Sit them wherever you think is safest,” he says calmly.

She huffs but ultimately takes his word, speeding off with her kitten heels clacking against the marble floor.

Nanami turns back to you and opens his mouth, but another voice cuts him off.

“Nanami, sir!”

You feel a twinge of irritation in your chest, but you really shouldn’t. He is the host and people need his attention. You should have seen this coming.

“Is everything okay?” he questions politely, turning to face the short brunette in front of him, who bats her eyelashes.

“I… I think that someone is fighting outside,” she says quickly, unable to keep eye contact.

Nanami is a smart man, though. “Oh? Well, what shall we do about that?”

“I thought you could run and stop them,” she says, twisting a piece of her hair around her finger, glancing at you out of the corner of her eye.

“I’m in no mood to be in the middle of a brawl,” he says sternly. “Have the butlers stop it, and remove them. You try not to get involved either.”

She huffs and spins on her heel, walking back through the living room with an angry stomp in her step.

Nanami clicks his tongue, “I really need to have her counseled in compulsive lying. She cries wolf so many times a day.”

You’ve never seen her before, she must be new. This makes you jealous all over again. She’s not quite as old as the rest of the workers, but still older than you. The issue is you see yourself in her, the uncontrollable pining over your shared boss. She just makes hers much more obvious.

Nanami clears his throat, and you notice too late how his hand has slithered to the small of your back.

“Perhaps we should escape somewhere more secluded, hm?” he says. “I really am enjoying our conversation. A shame we keep getting interrupted.”

You swallow thickly. The hair on your spine has raised at his sudden contact, making you shiver.

“Yes, that’s a good idea, sir,” you say, trying to hide how dry your voice has gotten.

Not another word is uttered before Nanami is swiftly whisking you off to another room; his hands now free of his drink and instead gently guiding you by his hand placement.

His gaze is not as focused on you as it is leading you both through the overwhelming crowd of people, and to the hall under the stairs that you know for a fact leads to his workspace. He moves his hands into yours as he gently pushes you ahead of him.

You take the lead and find yourself pushing open the big door to his study. Inside is a complete reflection of Nanami, his wealth and his cleanliness. Even his desk is free of papers, or any indication at all that he works in here.

You recall the days he works from home, in this very study, and he'd still be in his work suit, just minus the blazer. You'd let the kids sneak in on him, only once or twice thoughout the day, just to see his smile; and while you’re already there, you'd drop off a cup of hot coffee to help him plow through the rest of his shift.

He shuts the doors behind you both as you run to make yourself comfortable in his desk chair, spinning around like a child.

As you do so, you fail to see or hear his fingers slyly clicking the lock on the door.

“Much better,” Nanami breathes, moving to flick on a floor lamp in the corner, giving the study a soft, warm glow accompanied by the full Halloween moon. “Now, what were we discussing?”

“You, uh,” you clear your throat as you stop spinning in the chair to face him. “You really didn’t have to come in here just to talk to me. You are the man of the evening, you know.”

Nanami rolls his eyes, an out-of-character action you never thought you'd see, but one that looked so tasty, so sultry. God, you’re a pervert in heat - and your sweet, sweet boss is completely oblivious to the kind of horrible thoughts you have daily about him.

Nanami's now staring at you. His mouth is moving, but you have no idea what he had been saying.

"… to spend time with all of those shallow, insolent creatures,” you register, “when I have someone like you here?" He walks over to the desk and leans against it, right next to you now, as he crosses his arms over his massive chest. "We have never just sat down and talked. We always have little people depending on us or wanting our attention. Tonight, I’d like that to change.”

You let his words simmer for a moment. “What is it you’d like to talk about, Mr. Nanami?” you then question.

“What did I tell you about that ‘Mr.’ nonsense?” He frowns. “That makes me feel so old.”

"Sorry, sir," you gulp, not intending to upset him. You just can't help the way 'Mr.' and 'Sir' roll off your tongue, or how bad you enjoy seeing him shift uncomfortably at the use of the names.

"Meanie," he tuts, knocking you playfully with his leg. Another uncharacteristic action.

"What'd I do?" you blink, tilting your head as you look up at him.

"You mean besides drive me insane with your teasing?" he questions, before his eyes widen and he looks as though he's just spilled a secret. "I- wow, I am sorry. That is not what I meant to say."

"I drive you insane?" you echo. "I didn't even think you noticed my… teasing.”

Nanami's face is neutral, but his jaw is working under his skin. "I’m not naive, little fox." He lets out a breath. “This was truly an excellent costume choice.”

He leans forward and flicks the furry ear on your head.

“Thank you,” you smile. “I can’t say the same for yours. You hardly scream innocent bunny.”

“What about me isn’t innocent?” he raises a brow, standing off of the desk.

“I…” you blink as he walks around to the back of the desk chair. “You’re just, um…”

“Fox got your tongue?” he coos, spinning the chair so that you’re forced to face him.

You inhale a deep breath and hold it as heat travels through your stomach and right to the center of your thighs.

“You’re a man who is about his business,” you say. “I imagine you’ve… had a lot of life experiences,” you pause to remind yourself to breathe, but it’s hard because of how ferociously Nanami is staring into your eyes. “So you c-can’t be all that innocent…”

“You seem nervous,” he coos. “Here. Let’s stand up, I’ll sit down. Maybe that will help you to not be so tense, hm?”

Your body obeys before your mind catches on. You’re standing in a beat, and Nanami has replaced you on the chair. Your bottom hits the crease of his large desk, and you slam your hands down on the surface to balance yourself.

“Sorry,” you say, putting a hand up to cover your face. “I don’t mean to imply that you make me uncomfortable, sir.”

Nanami's pupils flash white, but it's gone so quickly, you might have imagined it. "If I do, please let me know immediately.”

“No,” you say, dropping your hand, “I just think we need to get to know each other better, right? Our entire relationship is through the kids. I know that your son’s favorite shade of green is kiwi, but I don’t even know your first name.”

Nanami chuckles at this. “You know, I was thinking exactly the same thing.” He taps your knee. “Kento, silly girl. My first name is Kento.”

"A-And your favorite color?” you continue, trying to ignore how close he’s moved the chair towards you, now that you have fully planted your bottom on his desk.

“Pink,” he says, serious as death.

You giggle. “Why pink?”

“It’s the color of my favorite thing to eat,” he says, slowly placing his arms on either side of your thick thighs, hands planted flat on the surface of the desk.

You think for a moment. “Strawberry ice cream?”

“No,” he cocks his blond head to the side and his eyes fall on your tights. “Try again.”

You pretend to think, though you fear you may be catching on now. “Hmm, dragonfruit?”

“Nah,” Nanami says, looking up at you through his eyelashes. His pupils have been dilated from the alcohol, but there is an unrelated darkness in his eye now. “Something I don’t even have to swallow.”

You gulp. “Oh,” your suspicions have been confirmed.

“Get it now, little fox?” he coos.

“Mhmm,” you taunt back. “Well, I suppose I came prepared with your favorite dish, then.”

“Did you?” His hands boldly make their way to the top of your thighs, barely hovering over the skin but enough to make the flesh there light on fire. “Prepared it all nice and pretty for me?”

“Yes sir,” you nod eagerly, feeling your own boldness appear as your knees slide further away from one another. “How do you like it?”

“Extra moist,” he grits hungrily, fingernails curving into your tights and shredding a thick rip! through the material.

You gasp, entire torso lurching forward as he drags the hole bigger and bigger.

“Sorry, little fox. They were in the way,” he shrugs an innocent shoulder. “And what should we do about these shorts? They’re in the way, too.”

“Then let’s get them off,” you whisper, hardly registering that such filth had been uttered.

This truly can’t be happening. Is Nanami… Kento Nanami actually going to eat you out? Are his hands really slithering up your waist and fumbling with the button on your shorts, or are you in some kind of sick daydream?

"Mr. Nanami-"

"Please," he holds up a hand, one still remaining on the button of your shorts. "Kento. Call me Kento."

"Kento," you echo softly, and his eyelashes flutter. “You really want to do this?”

Nanami sucks in a breath. Several moments of silence pass, then his fingers are gently pressing against your chin, and he has risen to tower above you. "Maybe it's the liquid courage in me that's pushing me," he says, "but I’m okay with that. I dream about you on my tongue, night after night. I need you, Y/N.”

Instead of allowing you to reply, Nanami's lips are assaulting yours in a flash. A harsh, irrational kiss from a man who's lost his battle of self control.

Your hands fly up to his face to balance yourself at the sheer force the shock of the kiss has on you. He groans softly into you as your lips mold together, getting used to the shapes of each other’s mouths.

You want to begin deepening the kiss, but Nanami is suddenly pulling away.

"I'm sorry," he says quickly. You look at his face; for a man who is always so calm and composed, he is flushed and even shaking a little. “I should have asked if that was okay.”

"Did you hear me complaining?" you ask sternly.

“No-”

“Then shut up and kiss me, Kento.”

He wastes no time obeying your command; this time as he kisses you, his hands find the soft skin where your hips crease into your thighs. You’re aware of your thighs rubbing against his stomach as he crawls further on top of you.

You slide your arms up around the back of his neck to hold onto him as his lips work pure ecstasy into your mouth.

You sigh against him and he digs his fingers into your sides to get you to do it again. Now his tongue is in your mouth, softly swirling your own, smacking fiercely on your lips as he does so.

You're panting now, but Nanami is swallowing your breath with every second. He's leaning his weight on his palm, so his body isn't quite attached to yours, but you want to make him lose his balance so he can crash down on top of you. Every moment that you stay like this, your cunt drips wetter and wetter, seeping through your shorts onto his desk.

"So perfect," Nanami utters into your mouth, "s'much sweeter than I deserve."

You frown at his self deprecation but don't comment, instead your hands start sliding down his chiseled back, exploring the deep ridges and shapes of pure, hard muscle.

Then, plop! You blink in shock as his bunny ears have fallen plum onto your face, nearly gauging out your eye.

"Oh," he gasps, breaking away from you. "Forgot about these."

He pulls away from you, standing upright but staying between your legs. You swallow a needy whine at his absence, before sitting up with him, staring expectantly.

"Think they'll look better on you though, huh, darling?" he coos, reaching over your head and plucking your fuzzy ears off. Then, he’s replacing them with his bunny ears. "There, that's more fitting. I feel much more like the hunter than the hunted.”

You tilt your chin defiantly. "Mm, so I'm just an innocent rabbit in the sights of a dangerous hunter?"

“Clever bunny,” Nanami murmurs, leaning forward and catching you by surprise with a wet kiss at the nape of your neck. You shudder. “Time for me to eat my latest catch, hm?”

“I-I guess so-”

“Oh, don't get shy now, bunny,” he mewls against your ear. “Do you want to do this?”

You pretend to consider it, but your dripping hole has already answered for you. "Yes, sir."

Nanami purrs in response and taps your earlobe with his perfect teeth - before you're being shoved back on the flat surface. Three quick beats occur. Beat, shorts off. Beat, tights off. Beat, panties sliding slowly down your legs.

"God," he says, hooking his fingers over the trim of the panties, which are light blue in color, accented by an adorable pink bow in the front. "All this time, I could've had you like this, if only-” he cuts himself off to lean down and place a kiss to your inner knee.

Your nerves send repeated quivers over you. You dig your nails into the desk, but your palms are so sweaty that your hand slips. Nanami catches you, a heavy hand on your lower back, the other hand entangling in your panties and proceeding to rip them all the way off. Your clothes are now in a discarded pile to the right of you, fuzzy tail and ears a reminder of what got you into this position in the first place.

“Well we can make up for lost time now,” you whisper, sliding your feet farther apart until your knees are angled into the air - gaping pussy winking up at Nanami.

His eyes nearly jump from his body as he watches you open up for him, glistening cunt all in his face. He's sinking back down into the chair before either of you really processes it, and his heavy palms fall flat on your inner thighs.

"She's s'pretty, sweetheart," he coos, the breath from his words tickling your clit and making you writhe pathetically. "Haven't even touched you yet. Why are you shaking?”

You whine out in embarrassment. Something about your most perverted fantasies coming alive before you, Nanami talking to you like this, and him staring directly at the forbidden parts you'd never thought he'd see, is depleting your confidence.

"What's wrong, bunny?" he asks, reading your expression. "You look like you are second guessing this."

"N-No!" you cry out, making him jump, before you sigh. "Sorry, I didn't mean to yell. No, I want to. I'm just embarrassed."

"Why?" he perks a brow, astonished.

"Because you're so..." you huff uncomfortably, "fine, and here I am, of course anyone would be embarrassed of their own genitals, y'know I just kind of never expected this and-”

"Y/N," Nanami interrupts. "I've seen plenty of these before; all different types, sizes and colors. I am going to devour you regardless of what you think.”

You swallow thickly. Your head nods like a puppet, though you're unsure if that's you saying you understand, or telling him to go ahead.

While you're deciding, Nanami plants a kiss to your bikini line, then slides his hands to wrap his arms around your thighs so that it's now impossible for you to close them. Your stomach is on fire, and you're on the verge of gyrating your pelvis right into his stupidly perfect face.

"Tell me you want this, bunny," Nanami rasps, placing another loud kiss to your inner thigh.

"I want this," you confirm again, "want you."

You don't have to say anything else because his mouth has already found your clit. Warm breath travels between your folds as he keeps his tongue narrowed out to swirl agonizingly slow circles over the bulb.

Your hips convulse against his strength. It does nothing except prompt Nanami to flatten his whole mouth over your heat and pick up speed with his tongue.

"Oh, ohh," you drawl, your hands leaving the desk surface and going right through his fine hair. His hold on you ensures you can’t fall backwards, but you’re gripping his roots for dear life.

He grumbles against your cunt and you feel it all the way up to your ovulating uterus. The desire to have your womb house more of his children starts to enter your brain and you have to remind yourself that this is just sex.

Oh, but it's so much more than that. Nanami's taking his time to work your body, to know exactly which pace makes you cry out like a pathetic fucktoy, noting when you wriggle under his grip, as he pushes his fingertips into the flesh on your legs.

His warm tongue keeps your puffy lips parted effortlessly; lathering you up with his saliva, drinking in the fluid your body creates more of each second.

You sit up farther to look down at him; his eyebrows are furrowed and focused, his cheeks hollowed as he treats your twitching clit like his tongue’s dance partner.

He swirls, flicks, slurps - each variation unlocking a new noise from you as you fight back your orgasm.

As you watch him, your fucked-out, needy brain begins to tell you would give him whatever he wanted in this moment; six children and a house from scratch if that's what he requested. Because he deserves it; the way his tongue’s now dipping slightly into your desperate hole, making your hips jerk from the desk until he counter-forces them with his hands.

"Where do you think you're going?" he snaps, grazing his teeth over your clit.

You can’t even speak; he’s eaten your voice right out of you. His head shakes side to side as he plants his mouth back on you and peers up through his blond lashes, daring you to pull that stunt a second time.

Your hands are still deeply entangled in his roots, but at this point you can't keep your eyes in the front of your head. Your head lolls back on your neck as your hips twitch with an unholy amount of momentum. Your moans are growing dangerously loud; knowing full well there's an entire party nearby, as well as the possibility of nosy maids. Not that either of you care.

"Kento, s-so good," you lament, bucking your hips into his chin as if you could chase more pleasure than he's already giving you. The heat in your stomach is the first indication that your pleasure is morphing into an orgasm, but you don’t want to cum yet.

You want to try and run again, just to give yourself a little time to catch up…

The minute Nanami feels your hip bones sliding away from him, he pulls his mouth off of you; your orgasm slipping away. You take a deep breath in regret.

“Someone must not want to cum,” he taunts, keeping his mouth close to your trickling cunt. “Need you to stay still.”

“I can’t,” you breathe, trembling.

“Try for me?” Nanami requests softly, lifting your thighs into the air before plopping your feet flat on his shoulders.

He plants a heavy kiss to your clit after the adjustment in your position and you dig your toes into his back.

“F-For you,” you repeat mindlessly, brain officially scrambled like a breakfast platter.

“Mmh-” Nanami grunts, planting his fat tongue back between your slick folds, working his jaw intensely to finish pulling the orgasm out of you. He sticks the narrow tip back at your hole, flicking the rim of the inside as if it’s his purpose for living.

Your toes lift into the air as Nanami tests your flexibility, pushing your knees next to your ears. With the pressure built up in your stomach, you barely have time to mutter out the announcement of your orgasm before you're cumming all over his tongue and clenching your walls around the wet muscle.

"Give it to me, bunny," he moans, words muffled because of the way you're gripping his tongue with your pussy.

You keep shaking for a solid thirty seconds, because he is refusing to take his tongue out of you. When finally you’ve calmed to a slight twitch, he removes his face from between your thighs and the entire lower half of his face glistens in the light.

"That's one," he murmurs to himself, crawling back over you to plant a sloppy kiss on your lips. "You did so well. You taste so sweet, bun.”

"Can I return the favor?" you ask needily, dragging your palm down his chest.

He grinds his pelvis across your lower half, so that you can feel the sheer length of his bulge beneath his pants. "What for?"

Your eyes widen at just how large it feels; surely it's smaller than it appears.

"Wanna please you, sir," you babble out, watching his eyebrows furrow at the self-proclaimed pet name.

"Hm, think that ship sailed long ago,” he chuckles, rubbing his clothed dick against your inner thigh this time, and now, you take notice of the warm trail of precum that’s leaked through his pants onto your skin.

You dig your nails into his chest instead of replying. He bites back a groan and kisses your neck.

“I’m going to have to restrain you if you want’a keep being so touchy," he whispers sternly.

"I do have handcuffs," you say, following it with a giggle. Though you’re only half joking.

"That's cute," he mewls. "You think I need handcuffs to restrain you?" He pauses. "What's that you said? That I'm twice your size?"

You swallow thickly, remembering that you had, in fact, said that.

"So I can, and will easily pin you down, bun," he continues. "Don't act up, and I won't have to, yeah?"

You wish you can say you won’t, but if he thinks you dislike the idea of being pinned down, he must not be faking his innocence, like you’d thought.

A moment later, he's standing away from you, and his hands expertly unbutton his shirt. You watch him with desire, and he smiles a little shyly at you as he shrugs off the garment and tosses it to the floor.

“Funny, you’ve seen me shirtless before,” he says suddenly. “Why do I feel a bit nervous about it this time?”

You giggle and cock your head to the side, legs still spread wide. “Should’ve always felt nervous. I’m a huge pervert, y’know.”

Nanami dips his head before coming back to be close to your body again, his fingers mindlessly tugging on the hem of your shirt now.

“I know,” he whispers. “A little minx, you are.”

“Took you long enough to realize it, hm?” you tease as you lift your arms to assist him in removing the shirt. But you are caught off guard when he doesn’t continue.

"You're still sure you want to do this?" he questions, changing the subject. “I'm sorry. I'm going to ask a hundred times, it’s just a habit.”

"Yes, Kento," you rasp frustratingly. "Do I have to get on my knees and beg to be fucked for you to get it?"

He blinks, stunned, as if that is not something he ever considered; but does sound appealing to him.

"No," he says quickly, slowly lifting your shirt further over your body. "How did we end up here, hm? Was this your plan from the moment you crashed my Halloween party?"

"Uh-uh," you say innocently, as he pulls the shirt over your head. Now you sit completely naked in front of him - save for the bunny ears on your head.

"I get the feeling you're a big, fat liar," he teases, leaning back over you, now your stomachs are touching and everywhere your skin meets is tingling. "Didn't I tell you to be a good girl? Good girls don't lie."

“‘M not lying," you argue. "Admit you were over here waiting for me to show up all night."

"Maybe I was," he murmurs, dragging his top teeth over the connection between your neck and your shoulder before planting a wet kiss on your collar bone. "And you came for me, like always."

A gasp erupts from your throat and Nanami cuts it off by sliding his hand there. He uses his fingers to apply the gentlest amount of pressure to the sides of your neck and your body arches against him.

"Tell me if anything I do is too much for you, little fox," he coos in your ear before dropping his hand from your neck and standing back straight to quickly unbuckle his belt.

He slides the garment out of his belt loops, and discards it to the side, on top of your clothes. So in other words: close by.

"Kento," you pant, "please."

"Please what?" he questions, raising a brow innocently as he pops open the button to his tight pants - visibly taking a deep breath as his bulge pokes free.

"You're dragging this out," you whine. "I've needed you for so long. This is torture."

"So what?" he shrugs, allowing his pants to fall to the floor, where he steps out of them.

"I..." you cut yourself off with a frustrated grunt.

"You said please, but you aren't using your words, little fox.” He slides his body back over yours - his boxers now being the only barrier between you. "What do you want?"

"You, your cock, your mouth," you pant all of it out in one quick sentence. "I... I just need you inside of me, Mr. Nanami."

Your breasts rub against his hard chest, teasing your achingly hard nipples. Just so pathetic. Can’t control yourself. Your brain's swirling with desire and ecstasy for him. If he can't read your mind, you're sure he can see it in your face.

"Okay, sweetheart," he says, voice returning to its usual softness, "you got me. All yours."

He tugs his boxers down quickly, desperately. Now your hips are aligned to each other's. He's still hovering, his cock not even touching you yet. He slides a hand between your legs as his other keeps you steady, gripping harshly on your hip which is sure to leave a delicious bruise.

Your arms wrap around his neck and he drags his mouth across your jaw before attaching his lips to your neck. His fingers gather the drip from your hole, and then he slides them up through your folds and to your clit. He swirls the fingers softly, keeping his ear right next to your mouth so that he can hear exactly what he’s doing to you.

Your legs shake against his ribs while you moan for him, and he grunts as he takes in all of your body's reactions to his touch.

He goes to try and put a finger in your cunt but you grab his wrist. He does not argue with you, which should be a red flag, but you think you’ve won until he takes the hand he had been using to play with you and grips your wrist, yanking it back, and your entire body goes falling against the desk.

Somehow, both of your wrists are being pinned to the wood in one large hand now. You whine and squirm under him, but he doesn't care. His free hand grabs his cock.

He takes the heavy tip and taps it against your clit several times, each time causing you to gasp and arch against him.

"That's right," he whispers above you. "No escaping now, bun."

You blink up at him, lifting your hips to grind your pussy on him, which causes his lips to part and his eyebrows to furrow.

You open your mouth, tongue flying out, wanting to appeal to another twisted fantasy. “Need your spit,” you mumble shyly.

He seems to ponder for a moment before he realizes what exactly it is you are asking, and a moment later he is leaning forward, dripping a warm glop of saliva from his mouth down your throat.

“Mmh-” you moan as you swallow happily, before looking down between your legs where he is finally done lubricating himself on your juice. He's staring at you hopelessly, as if he’s thinking that putting his cock in you isn't going to be enough.

“So nasty,” he coos, “ready for me, sweetheart?”

"Hngh- please," you beg.

Not a second later, hot pressure is at your hole. Nanami slides his hips upward to push himself deeper, deeper, deeper - the girth feeling like it's going to simply rip you in half.

You shriek and shut your eyes tightly, waiting for the pain to pass. It doesn't.

You feel so embarrassed as he takes his free hand to lift up your left thigh, because pain shoots up through your stomach - and not the good kind.

"Ah- wait," you cry out, eyes falling open.

Nanami stops immediately. "What's the matter?"

"It... it hurts," you admit shyly, biting your lip. "Wh-Why d'you have to be so big?"

"Why d'you have to be so tight?" he chuckles back, but carefully slides out of you. "Hang on. I know what will help, little fox."

He pulls away from you, letting go of your wrists to lean over and dig into a random drawer in his desk. You have no idea what he could possibly be doing until he stands back straight, a hand still holding up your leg, while the other holds a small, light pink, bullet-shaped rubber object.

"Brand new," he says, eyeing it as he rotates it between his fingers. "Just put batteries in it."

You swallow as you realize what this implies. He knew he was going to fuck you - or at least, that he was going to use this toy on you at some point. Or, a third worse thing: it hadn't been for you at all.

You don’t want to think about that possibility, though.

He hands the little toy to you, a small buzz coming from it already.

"Hold it for me," he instructs. "I need my hands to keep my prey from running."

You gulp and do as he says, and again he is taking his cock head and pushing it against you, before it slides through the gummy entrance and you cry out again.

You hold the toy to your clit and the feeling travels straight through your veins. You focus on the vibrations and before you can even inhale again, your insides are completely full.

"Deep breaths, bun," he grunts, "feel her o-opening up… now.”

Did he just stutter? Kento Nanami, who's always so composed. You'd made him lose his wording. You.

Nanami takes his hands and pulls your knees up, holding them to his sides, while you keep your hand occupied on the little bullet between your legs.

The combination of the toy plus his cock filling you up and molding your walls against it has you aching to spill over, already.

Now that the searing has begun to dissolve, his cock is gliding effortlessly inside of you - feeling as though the organ was crafted to fit you perfectly. Your juices cover every inch of him, delicious squelches creating a symphony with your moans as Nanami's pace quickens.

He has his hands still pressed on your thighs but he leans forward and gently pulls a nipple into his warm mouth. You don't know what to do with your free hand, so it ends up on his back, nails mercilessly breaking open his skin. He hisses and nips your nipple between his teeth.

"Fuck. Me," he groans, pulling away from your chest to look down at you. You want to make a comment about how you already are, but he just looks so fucked out - so vulnerable. Lips puffy and wet, eyes shut tight, hair dangling over his forehead.

He’s ruined.

He claws his fingers into your outer thighs. His fingers dig so hopelessly into you as his cock swirls your insides, his hips now moving in a rhythmic wave motion.

Your hand falls away from your clit with the toy and you hardly notice that it's gone because now, his pelvis is brushing over it, sweat practically gluing the two of you together.

"Aw," he purrs, and you look up to see that his eyes are staring directly between your legs. "You’re creaming all over me. Shit - your cunt looks so good, swallowing me up.”

Your face heats and you take your hands to grip his arms, as he's now drilling into you so torturously that you're gliding up the desk - the sweat on your back making your skin slick. He notices you're moving away and shifts his hands to grab your hips, holding you down onto him, and now his fat tip is violating your cervix.

"H-Hah Kento, ngh - God," is all you can manage to say, but there’s nothing holy about what his cock is doing to you, as he angles himself upward, attacking your uterus from a new direction.

You shriek, so horribly loud. It sounds like a horror movie - which is fitting. You’ve nearly forgotten that it’s Halloween night; the moon full, your passions like the tides, being pulled to their peak.

You desperately feel a needy confession on your lips but you know that now isn't the time. You can't love a man you don't date... right? But you definitely love the way he's tearing up your insides, sure to leave you swollen and limping.

"I don't remember telling you that you could remove your hand," he snaps, realizing you’ve removed the bullet, "put it back. Now."

You shake your head, begging for mercy. "Was too much, c-can't take it."

"Yes you can," he whispers, leaning forward and hovering his mouth over yours, cognac-scented breath teasing your parted lips. "Put it back, or I stop."

You whine and obey, the vibration revisiting your clit making your body convulse against him.

"Mhmm, like that sweetheart," Nanami coos, staring at you as your face twists every couple of seconds from the introduction of new kinds of pleasure. "Stick that tongue back out for me."

Your mouth is open, drool practically spilling out of the sides in a millisecond. He's spitting another alcoholic saliva drop into your mouth the next.

His breath is ragged as he drags out, "Thought I knew everything. But y’teaching - hah - me new things. Like how I can never live without your pretty pussy, ever again."

You quiver your lip and dig your nails into his back again, ready to cum on his cock.

"S-Stop talking like that," you grit out. "G-Gonna cum if you don't stop."

"Is that supposed to scare me?" he questions harshly. "You can cum over and over. I’m not finished with you."

You shake your head, but before you can fire back, Nanami is suddenly sliding himself out of you. You panic and sit up, staring at him with wide eyes as he drops to sit on the chair.

His hands come up to grab your hips roughly, and he's effortlessly pulling you down off of the desk. Your stomach makes contact with his thighs as he lays you over his lap like a disobedient child.

"Nanami?" you breathe, but he doesn't seem to hear you at all.

"We just needed to pause for a second," he says softly, running a hand down your spine and over the hill of your ass. His voice is very misleading, as are his gentle gestures; you have no idea what's coming.

"N-No," you whine, "I was so close."

"But, naughty bunny, didn’t you tell me to stop?" he questions, distracting you from the fact that his fingers are sliding between your asscheeks and down to your swollen hole.

You jerk in his lap as two of his fingers glide down your slick, parting your thick lips, repeating the process several times just to watch you squirm.

“Y-Yes, but-”

“What’d I tell you about lying?” he grits, and a blink later his fingers have parted from your skin.

You turn to scold him and his hand cracks down on the back of your thighs.

You yelp, but the action exhilarates you in some kind of disgusting way.

“Oh, and here’s another for calling me Nanami,” he spits, another crack landing on your backside but this time - higher, and harder.

“K-Kento, I’m sorry,” you whine, but you truly don’t want it to stop. Your fingers dig into his leg and he hisses, his cock jerking against your stomach as his body responds.

“How sorry, bun?” he coos, voice faking softness before another pop! of his palm stings your skin.

“I’ll be good, promise,” you whisper, arching your hips up to encourage another smack.

“You like this, don’t you, naughty bunny?” he realizes suddenly, and you try to shake your head in denial - but he’s caught on. “Hm. I’ll only accept your apology if you give me two more orgasms. Deal?”

“Two?” you cry. “I-I’ve already had one!”

“Good things always cum in threes, baby,” he murmurs, running his hand over the pretty hand-shaped welps he’s left on your skin. “You can give it to me. You want to be good, don’t you?”

You don’t know when the shift happened, but you loved it. You loved how he was letting his soft facade crumble to the ground so that he could truly slap you around like you were just a hole. Truthfully, that’s all you wanted to be. Wanted to let him take out the stress of being a single father on your guts, fill you up with more babies to care for, and then kiss you on the forehead when it was all done.

Pathetic. This is still your employer, your boss. And not to mention how much older he is. You don’t care, but you’re unsure if he does.

“I wanna cum again, please,” you beg, wriggling your ass up to show him you still needed punishment.

He groans before his two thick fingers are pressing between your lips and then, shoving through the soft ring at your center.

Your body shamelessly arches, but he allows your arms to stay free, clawing into his skin wherever you can get a grip.

Nanami is making his own noises above you but you’re on the verge of tears, wailing and carrying on as he fucks you with his fingers, curling the tips into your squishy ridges to try and drive the cum out of you faster.

“Maybe we should get one of those tails with a plug,” he comments, tone implying he’s thinking out loud. “It’s a shame I didn’t get to see you in your cute little tail while I fuck you.”

“Hngh - no, mmh…” you don’t even know what noises to make anymore. Words escape your brain.

Nothing but mush and the burning of your approaching orgasm are on your mind.

“Hold it in for me,” Nanami requests suddenly, “I’ll tell you when I’m ready for it, sweetheart.”

“God,” you shake your head and clench your thighs, but Nanami’s strong hand forces them back apart.

Your toes curl on the other side of the chair, your head falling forward. The pulse in Nanami’s cock is still drumming against your abdomen, as if knocking on your tummy to threaten you to hold your orgasm.

“I-I can’t,” you say, “Please, can I-”

“Cum.”

Nasty, wet squelches don’t stop as your body sends you over the edge. Your vision blacks and you shake so hard that you nearly roll right to the floor.

He hums approvingly, slowing his fingers down as you clench around them. “Good job, bun. Only one more to go.”

“I can’t take another,” you shake your head, as he gently guides you up into a sitting position on his lap.

“You’re so strong,” he says, “the perfect person for me. The way you always take care of me and the kids, how you fit so effortlessly into our little family. I know you can do this for me, sweetheart. Let me repay you for all that you do for us. Make you feel good.”

You hadn’t expected this little speech. It almost brings you to tears as Nanami gently rubs your back, sliding his free arm underneath your legs to lift you princess-style back onto the desk.

“Say something,” he begs, his voice hoarse.

“I wanted to be good for you,” you grin softly, and he smiles back as he runs his hands gently over the top of your legs. “But you want to be good for me. Which is it?”

“Both,” Nanami whispers. “I told you that you already do everything that keeps me content. Now, I want to please you.”

You realize that he is passing his power off to you. Letting his dominance slip through his fingers and right into the palm of your hand. You think you can handle being in control for your final orgasm, so you grip him harshly by his cock and scoot your ass to the edge of the desk.

He moans so softly that it could have been a whimper. You take his curvy length and drag it up to be aligned with your hole.

“Is your cock alone gonna please me, hm?” you purr, swirling your hips to tease his cock head, salty precum spreading across your hole.

“Y-yes ma’am,” he mutters, body lurching forward as if he’s the overstimulated one.

“Prove it,” you quip, shoving him back inside of you before pushing your hips down onto him.

You furrow your eyebrows to try and pretend the pain of him entering isn’t still intense. You lift yourself off of your palms and feet, using them to fuck down onto his twitching cock.

“Hah - Y/N,” he speaks your name in two sultry syllables, putting his hands on the desk to fully release his control as you use him.

“Baby, I need to fill you up,” he continues, “b-but if you don’t want me to…”

“Yes,” you say, “want me to have your babies, Mr. Nanami?”

“Oh,” he whimpers, “shit. Shit, don’t say stuff like that.”

You whirl your hips on him in the shape of an ‘O.’

“Want to breed me?” you continue. “Make me all big and pregnant?”

“That’s enough,” he snaps suddenly, hand clamoring down on the belt that is to your side, before he grips the garment in his hand. He sits up from where he’d been leaning on you, before taking the leather and slithering it around your neck, pulling it through the buckle, and yanking it towards him like you’re just a pathetic bitch on a leash.

“You had your fun,” he grits, “now you need to remember your place, bunny. I’m going to fill you to the brim until your cunt can’t take anymore and it drips back out of you, got it?”

“Mmh,” you pull against his belt as your hips are no longer the once controlling the pace. “Nanami, n-nooo…”

Your voice tapers off as he fucks you, fucks you so good and hard and mean until you’re drooling and crying and shaking and hissing and-

“Cumming!” you scream, but Nanami shows no signs of slowing down.

“That’s it,” he says. “Number three. What about four?”

“Y-You said…”

“Oh, you’re the only one who gets to lie around here?” he chuckles, a deep hypnotic sound that vibrates against your chest. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m gonna - ngh” and one viscid moment later, Nanami begins to shudder, and it is the beginning of the end.

You cannot tell if you are mourning or rejoicing the conclusion of this insane chain of events, but you forget all about it when Nanami is spurting hot semen all over your taut, spongey walls - that are now sore and quivering from the excessive abuse.

Your name leaves his lips in between the sultry noises he makes, and his body jerks on top of you until he’s finished spewing his load. Now, he stands in front of you with his head dipped down as he pants for several seconds.

“Do you understand how addicting you are?” are the first words that leave his lips after he is able to drag his head up to look at you.

You’re focused on your own huffing as you try to come up with a witty response, but with your brain so fucked out, the only thing you can mutter is “Oh, Kento.”

He nestles his sweaty face into your neck and plants a feathery kiss there, reminding you that he is still the same gentle Nanami that tucks his children in bed at night and drinks green tea in the garden.

He is everything you have dreamed of, but the sex had truly sealed it. Now, as he slips out of you and his cum follows soon after, you feel your post-high clarity morphing into embarrassment at the fact that all you’d been feeling is lust; Nanami deserves so much more than that, including his recognition as a father.

“Why are you staring at me? Have I still got your nectar on my face?” he jokes, and you admire his ability to loosen the tension.

“I’m sorry,” you say meekly, “I just think you are amazing. I don’t want you to think I really did just come for some cock.”

At this, he laughs so hard that his torso shakes. You smile, as it is rare to hear, and you are the cause of it.

He grabs his shirt and begins to use it to wipe himself off, then does the same for you, his movements intentional and gentle as he cleans you up, rubbing all of the puffy, red reminders on your body softly.

“I don’t think that,” he says with a crooked smile. “But whatever the case, I do hope that things have… changed between us.”

You scoff. “I should hope so,” you tease, tilting your head as he stops his hands on your body. “I hope you’re not going around making every person who comes near you cum three times in one sitting and expect to just be friends.”

He grins. “Nah, that treatment is reserved for you, bun.” His hands slide up your hair and pat the fuzzy ears on your head. “We should keep these around, though. But I’d like to take you out before we use them again.”

You wrap your arms around his shoulders and bring his face to yours, planting a gentle kiss on his nose. “Of course. You did say good things come in threes,” you grin. “The sex was one. The date will be two. What’s three?”

And your question gets answered nine months later, when Nanami proposes to you on a white beach in another country.

…Right before you go into labor.

But of course, once the baby is out, it’s time to start on number 4 the following Halloween.

A/N 2.0

ty all sm for the love on this series so far i’m rlly havin the time of my life writing all these twisted monster-fucker stories ^.^

~ pennjammin

[sp4ceboo]

Atonement: Feyd-Rautha x Reader

A/N: fic i wrote with @triluvial 's lovely idea

tw: 18+, smut but pretty soft, oral (f recieving), so so so so much angst, fluff after tho dw, swearing, hints of sa and pedophilia from the baron, baron is also creepy to reader but not explicitly, u gotta bear with my yapping in the beginning but it gets good i promise, inkpie

wc: 3.9k

headcanons for this universe

When you married Feyd-Rautha, you were warned of many things. His cruelty, both in and out of the bedroom, his bloodlust, his uncontrollable rage, his violence, his complete and utter lack of mercy. They told you he was psychotic, he was a cold blooded murderer, he was insatiable and that you’d be lucky to last a year with him, and yet, they never cautioned you of his sheer, unerring indifference.

Before your marriage, you fancied that he’d be like fire; raging, searing to touch. You went as far as to wish to tame his inferno. Late at night, when you could not sleep and doubt wreathed your thoughts, you also considered that he’d be like ice, like the colour of his piercing eyes, glacial and cold, devoid of anything soft or sweet.

As a child, you saw him fight in the arena. There he blazed with passion, his victor’s smile a cruel curve upon his face, his knife blade stained dark with fresh blood: he was mesmerising. At that time you were beginning to understand that your future had been sold to this violent man, and you resented your parents for it - now you realise that it went deeper than that, that it was rooted in generations of religion, of whisperings of the Bene Gesserit. Still, even then, you found the way he burned intriguing, and you were drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

But you were wrong. He turned out to be neither fire nor ice, just stingingly, dismissively apathetic. His eyes slide right over you when he happens to pass you in the corridors, as if you’re lower than a servant, lower than the rare rats that survive Giedi Prime’s conditions. You suspected your marriage would be painful, wedded to a man such as he was, but you didn’t think it would be this damn lonely.

You wished he hated you.

That way, at least you’d mean something to your husband. At least then vehement, savage emotion would rise within his gaze whenever he looked at you, not that horrible, polarising blankness. You wish you disgusted him, because then he’d at least he’d speak his mind - you had learnt that he spoke with brutal honesty, uncaring of the consequences.

Maybe to him, that’s all you are. A consequence of being high born, of being the na-Baron. You mean nothing to him, and he treats you as such; to him, you are less than the speck of dust on the floor, less than a grain of sand in his beloved arena.

It’s not that you wish for him to dote on you, nor love you or devote himself to you. You just wish he would look you in the eye and feel something; you’d rather him stare at you in revulsion and call you names that you can’t even think up yourself than the dead, lifeless detachment that clouds his face when he sees you in your shared chambers.

Feyd-Rautha has never laid a hand on you in violence; in fact he rarely touches you at all. The last, and only time he kissed you was during the wedding day, and he makes no moves to be in bodily contact with you any more than he has to be. You are obliged to produce an heir from him, yet even in these infrequent encounters it seems as if it is a chore for him - he takes no pleasure in your body nor does he try to pleasure you, and he makes no sound when he takes you, staying as long as it takes for his seed to fill your womb before leaving without a word. On those nights, your thighs tremble as you stumble to the bathroom, only allowing your tears to fall once the shower water is searing on your skin.

During the first month of your marriage, you did everything in your power to please him. You thought maybe you weren’t pretty enough for him, maybe you were not desirable as a wife, so you always smiled at him, made an effort to fill the silence that pervaded the air around him, bringing up topics you knew he would enjoy, like the arena, like his love for knives and duels. To even that he would not reply, rebutting your questions with monosyllables or simply ignoring you. You stopped once he began to leave the room while you were mid sentence.

It is now your fourth month locked in this marriage with an uncaring man, and all you feel is bleak, crushing resignation. Somehow, Feyd-Rautha seems to take more interest in conversing with his brother than you.

You wonder if he has forgotten your name. He addresses you simply as ‘wife’ - that, and nothing more, the title leaving his lips like an accusatory curse, reminding you that if you did not serve a purpose to him, and if decorum did not restrain him, he’d have disposed of you by now, either by slitting your throat or simply abandoning you outside the palace grounds, not even bothering to end you himself.

The palace in question is lonely, but you feel the loneliest when you lay awake at night, shivering on your side of the bed as Feyd-Rautha slumbers to your right. Tears always prick your eyes during those moments, but you stifle them, afraid that you’ll rouse him with your crying; you do not know what you’ve done to garner his mistrust, but many times you’ve glimpsed the knife he keeps beneath his pillow, the cold blade glinting in the moonlight.

Often you wonder if he has a secret lover, and that is why he does not bother with you. You wake up sometimes and he is gone, but soon you realised that he would visit his concubines, especially after he had bred you. You would finish your shower, unable to wash off the feel that you were dirty, you were just an animal, a mindless thing to produce an heir for him, and he would be lounging in the antechambers of your quarters, ignoring your presence with the three harpies wrapped around him, whispering in his ears and caressing his moonlight skin. They accompanied him everywhere he wished, even in public, and to begin with, you felt humiliated that he would so explicitly show that you were not to his satisfaction.

Now, it just makes the solitude even worse.

You find solace in no one. More than once, you have walked in on the servants laughing behind your back, and as it became evident your husband was uninterested in you, they did not hide their mocking. The Baron’s other nephew you hardly saw, and the Baron himself terrified you: there was something in the way that he stared at you, his beady eyes glittering from where they were set deep within his putrid flesh, that made you feel more soiled than even after Feyd-Rautha took you.

So you remain isolated, speaking only when spoken to, drifting through the palace’s wide, dark hallways like a ghoul, a mourning spectre. You can barely remember your life before, just wisps and fleeting flashes of colour that ridicule rather than comfort you.

To Feyd, it is obvious who you are. A spy, commanded by his uncle to report every single one of his doings to you; he cannot slip up once around you, cannot reveal his weaknesses, that he is desperate to be loved, to be seen as someone whose only use is not war. He sees the way his uncle looks at you, hungry for information you do not have because he does not impart it, the way the Baron comments on you and the way you flinch at his words, pretending that you do not report to him.

Feyd is determined in his resolve to give nothing away. His uncle has held power over him since he was young, he refuses to give him even an inch over him now. He still has nightmares of it, which he wakes up from with his pale skin sheened in clammy sweat, clammy like the hands of his uncle.

Sometimes, he sees the tears in your eyes after he fucks you. The first time, he almost stopped, almost asked you where it hurt, but you turned away before he could, acting, always acting; acting when you smile graciously at him, acting when you ask him what his favourite type of blade is, what his favourite form of swordsmanship is. You are good at pretending, but of course you are - his uncle is the Baron, a man who bathes in power. No doubt he would get only the best of spies.

Tonight, you are not where you normally are. At this hour, you are usually asleep, or feigning it in the very least, curled up small on your side of the mattress, yet the bed is still made, the sheets unrumpled and smoothed down as they were this morning. Feyd thinks that maybe he might catch you reporting to his uncle, so he strides out of your shared chambers, pausing in the doorway to listen carefully; as a boy, he hunted in forests that have now been chopped down and industrialised, but he has maintained his keen ears long after the last wild plant on Giedi Prime’s surface choked on the fumes of pollution.

There’s a soft noise, barely perceptible, that echoes down the corridor to his right. Silently, he tracks it down the labyrinthine passages of the palace, servants scurrying out of his warpath, bowing their heads to him - he wonders if they too report to his uncle, if they travel now to his quarters to inform him of his beloved nephew’s whereabouts.

Feyd wishes he and Rabban were brothers first before rivals. Then he could have someone to rely on, someone who he trusted in this palace built on lies.

Pausing, Feyd cocks his head. You huddle in a crumpled heap at the end of the corridor, your knees hugged tightly to your chest, head low as if under a crushing weight. It occurs to him that maybe the Baron was displeased with your efforts to gain information and made it known to you - a pang of pity tugs at him, for he knows what his uncle’s wrath is like. At least you have been spared from the sole thing worse than that - the Baron’s thirst.

‘What are you doing, wife?’

Your head snaps up, Feyd-Rautha’s unfeeling voice kindling a rare burst of temper from you. Is it not evident to him what you are doing? Or is he just too blind to see the tears streaking down your cheeks? Your words are injected with venom when you speak, and you hope that it stings him for leaving you alone in this cold, dark place.

‘So now I am of concern to you?’

Feyd is taken aback by the indignant arch of your brows, the resentment displayed in your eyes. It takes him a moment to register the harshness lacing your voice - you have never addressed him in this way - and another to digest your words. There’s a bleakness in your wet, tear stained face as you stare up at him, and shock too, as if you did not expect yourself to speak against him this way.

Something clicks into place.

Feyd recognises that look in your eyes. He recognises it, because he’s seen it in the mirror a hundred times before; haunted, harrowed, lonely. He remembers nights when he trembled beneath the cold sheets of his bed, when he was small enough that he felt like he was drowning in the black satin, his eyes wide as the fabric seemed to wend around his limbs, tying him there as he lay fearful of everyone, fearful that his uncle would summon him. Even young, he was so terribly aware of not knowing who he could trust and who would turn to the Baron, bearing information like knives to split open his childish skin and spill his guts on the freezing stone floor.

It broke him. He is barely a shell of a sentient being, repressed emotions wreathing like ghosts around his frame, his eyes hollow, his heart decaying. In his fear, he was blinded, and he pushed you to the place where he had been all those years ago, so terribly, terribly alone - you are stronger than him, for lasting this long.

Sharp, plunging, dread sinks in his stomach, weighs down his soul; he has done unspeakable things to you, treated you like a dog, like a whore - worse. How can you look at him without hatred in your eyes, spite?

Bile rises in his throat, his heart seized by a dark, burning anger. He has done this to you, he has slashed your skin and left you bleeding, and yet all you did was try to please him. In an effort to save himself, he trampled you under foot; in order to keep you out, he left you surrounded by shadows. Feyd has never hated himself so much, has never despised who he has become with this much furor.

Slowly, he crouches before you. Eyes wide, you shrink away, misreading the direction of his rage, flinching when he reaches out a hand. Pressing your back against the wall behind you, you turn your head away from him, fear causing tears to spill down your cheeks: he sees the way you will the stone to swallow you up, knows the feeling.

‘Please don’t hurt me,’ you choke out, hands trembling uncontrollably.

Something deep within Feyd’s soul withers and dies at your words. Forcing his jaw to unclench, his hands to release the fists they held, he shoves down his anger. The fury is for later, for when he has made things right - for now it is you that is his priority. Too late, a voice whispers in his ears, too late, too late, too late -

Gods, he deserves to burn at the fucking stake for this. He deserves eternal hell for this, he deserves worse. He is a fool: a blind, blundering fool, stuffed to the brim with paranoia and cynicism.

He sucks in a breath. ‘I will not hurt you. You have my word, whatever it is worth to you. I - I have made an irredeemable mistake, I - ’

After his first sentence, you have not heard him. Tears of relief soak your face, and you whisper needless apologies for them; it is an arrow through his heart that you fear him so - yet the pain is where it is due, justifiable for the way he has shamed you, belittled you.

‘May I - may I touch you, my wife?’

You do not know why you nod in reply of your husband’s strange request, but the moment you do, strong arms pull you into a solid chest, and a sob leaves you - he is so warm, warm enough to banish the seeping cold embedded in your bones, warm enough to let your sorrow flow anew, soaking his shirt as your hands bunch in its fabric, so that if he is cruel enough to leave you here, at least he will have to fight to do so. You have not been held in a long time.

Each of your shuddering sobs is a knife blade twisting in Feyd’s spirit. He lets the pain wash over him, clings to the way you burrow into his arms, a kind creature in the embrace of a monster. At one point, in the throes of your crying, you beat at his chest, telling him that you hate him, and he takes it with a bowed head, stroking your hair and holding you tighter once you exhaust yourself; this is only a fraction of his atonement.

You fall asleep in his arms. He carries you back to your quarters, and only once the door is closed behind him does he let his tears mingle with yours. Keeping you cradled to his chest like a child, he pours a glass of water for you to drink in the morning, knowing you will be dehydrated; he sets it on your bedside table before laying you down on the mattress.

You don’t let go of him, even in your sleep. His heart clenches, tight in his chest, and he drops a kiss in your hair before lying down beside you.

He believes he will love you, if you will let him.

Consciousness leaks slowly into your mind, and you blink, squinting through the beam of light that filters in through the curtains. From your months spent here, you’ve realised that Giedi Prime’s atmosphere is normally churned up with violent storms and choked with pollution, so this ray of sun that falls against your pillow, warming your face is far from unwanted - nor is the pale forearm tucked around your waist, firmly so, but not trapping you either.

Your husband’s chest fits snugly against your back, his breath warm and steady against your skin; his fingers splay out across your stomach, gentle, communicating so many things that were left unsaid. Vaguely, you remember falling asleep, nestled against his chest, tears drying on your cheeks.

When you roll over, you’re unsurprised that he’s already awake. With blue eyes softened by the sunlight, he regards you, fingers settled at the small of your waist. Something clouds his gaze, and he shifts, propping himself up on his elbows.

‘I owe you an explanation.’

You wait silently, unperturbed by the way he clenches his jaw. He vowed to you last night that he would not hurt you, and you trust that. Wordlessly, his lips open, then close, and you patiently watch him, far too well acquainted with how this man struggles to let down his guard - even now, you cannot read the twisting of his features, the way his eyes squint as he looks at you.

‘I - I thought you were a spy sent by my uncle,’ he finally confesses. ‘My uncle… when I was younger, he,’

Reaching out, you cup his jaw in your hand, running your thumb along his cheekbone until he relaxes. You see the battle in his eyes, to let go, to tell you the knowledge that he thinks you deserve, but you see with it the years of hurt, of solitude. Something hopeful, something beautiful blossoms within you - the realisation that this wounded beast before you is someone that you could grow to love; you want him to bare his scars to you, those that are long healed and those that still seep with blood.

‘All in good time, Feyd,’ you assure him quietly.

He sighs, touches his lips against your palm. ‘I am sorry, my wife.’

Slipping your hand down to grip his shoulder, you lean closer towards him so you can kiss him. An anguished sound leaves him, and you see clearly how he realises that he has wronged you, how it pains him, and yet how the taste of you awakens something tender within him - you marvel at it, that it has survived, buried within him for so long. Perhaps he will let you love him.

Feyd is neither forward nor insatiable in the way he kisses you. In fact, he pulls away first, moving to get up from the bed despite the way your hands grip his shoulders, and you almost doubt that he wants you before you glimpse the longing in his eyes that lingers before he pushes it down. You wonder if this man knows how to make love or if he just knows how to fuck, you wonder if he feels the same molten feeling in his stomach that you feel and that is why his movements are tinged with nerves as he gently escapes your grasp. It is clear to you: he does not want to scare you.

‘Must you go?’ You ask, tugging at his fingers.

He tilts his head. ‘I don’t know if you want me here, after what I have inflicted upon you.’

A streak of bravery takes ahold of you. ‘Please, Feyd, I want you.’

You delight at the fire that ignites in his eyes upon your words. He wastes no time in returning to your side, dropping a sweet tasting kiss to your lips before taking your chin in his hand, eyes searching yours as he sits between your thighs.

‘Tell me if you want to stop,’ he says. ‘Yes?’

‘Yes,’ you echo, blood heating your cheeks.

Feyd kisses you again, giving you time to rescind your reply if you want, but you just tug at the hem of his shirt, drinking in his sculpted chest when he pulls the black cloth over his head. Delicately, he trails his lips down your skin as he undresses you, his broad hands warm where they encircle your waist, holding you flush to him as his calloused palms explore your body, skimming over your spine and caressing your breasts before settling on your thighs and pulling them open.

You’re terribly aware of how wet you are when his eyes settle on your pussy. Instinctively, your knees tip inwards, your face growing hot at the hunger in his gaze, but his broad shoulders block your legs from closing, followed closely by his hands which gently push them back open. He smiles at the blush high on your cheeks, rubbing his thumb over your ankle in order to put you at ease.

The sound you make when he pushes his fingers into your cunt and curls them almost makes Feyd moan. You tremble for him, bashful, and he can feel himself rock hard against the mattress, aching for the tight clamp of your velvet walls. He wants to bury himself between your thighs, and so he does, your sweet slick exquisite on his tongue - he presses kisses like butterflies to your thighs, your hips, worshipping you as his fingers pump in and out of you to the same pace as your heaving chest.

You look beautiful, gilded by the sunlight, lower lip trapped between your teeth, but he doesn’t miss the way you grip the sheets with one hand, the other clapped over your mouth, panting as he pleases you. Stroking your thigh, he pauses, licking your slick off his lips.

‘Let me hear you,’ he bids.

You blush again but obey him, tremors wracking your body as he sucks on your clit, laving his tongue over it until you throw your head back, eyes rolling as you come, your honeyed moans and hot release exquisite upon his senses. He wants more, needs more of the taste of you, but you tug at his shoulders, whining for his cock, and he’d rather die than deny you.

The way you say his name when he buries himself inside you sets his soul on fire. You look beautiful beneath him, shaking and whimpering from the hot pulse of his length, clawing at his shoulders until he wears red marks that he’s proud to bear, moaning into his mouth when he kisses you. It seems you cannot get enough of him, and Feyd is more than fine with that because he finds himself addicted to the feel of you under his hands, begging him for more.

Feyd remains entranced long after he comes inside you, with you, your cunt spasming around him. You draw close to him, intertwining your legs with his as he kisses your face, your neck, your chest, making sure he has not hurt you, making sure you are sated. Curling your fingers under his jaw, stopping him, you look him in the eye and smile before kissing him, and he finds himself mesmerised again by you.

He is certain you will let him love you. He is yours.

[shadow4-1]

I'm just imagining using a secluded space on base to do some yoga away from the 141, only to realize Ghost's been watching disapprovingly the whole time.

Like, what you lack in raw strength compared to the boys, you have in agility. You're not nearly as rigid. You're flexible, and it's only because you take the time to work on it. You have several methods but dancing and yoga are by far your favorite.

Neither hobby you can enjoy on base much, because well...you always get stared at. So, you take it upon yourself to clear out part of old studio space used for storage. It's kind of crappy, with cracked tile and dust bunnies galore, but it'll do. You play some music in your earbuds and do your beginning stretches on your mat.

When you're in the zone you're in the zone. You end up in a place far away and yet still within yourself. The burning stretch from some of your maneuvers feels so good you nearly groan. You get lost in the personal meditation. One certain position uses a specific pair of muscles in your lower back. It takes you a moment to realize why it makes you gasp. You bite your lip and decide to take a short break.

As you untangle your body you feel something's off. You're physically fine, but your heart starts to race. Your stomach lurches. You move to stand, suddenly startled by seemingly nothing.

"Yer doing it wrong."

And just like that Ghost makes himself known from behind a shelf. He's in his workout clothes, which isn't much but some slinky basketball shorts and a tank top. Black of course. His mask is the soft one he uses when he's not on the field.

You scoff at him, still feeling on edge but also relieved at no immediate threat.

"You do yoga?" You ask incredulously. "Fine, big guy. Show me how it's done."

He rolls out a mat and gestures for you to copy him. It's a simple move, one you've perfected. And yet he still shakes his head at your form. You try it again. Wrong. Again. Wrong.

"Where am I going wrong?"

You don't expect him to reach over and grab your back leg. He pulls it out further. You stumble and he rights you with the same arm. He tuts at you, but he's the reason you're off balance.

"Lift your back. No. Higher. Your hip should be down."

Next thing you know he's behind you, his large hands making your body twist and bend. You end up in the same position as you'd been in earlier, but this time you can really feel the stretch. Maybe he was right, you were doing it wrong.

You tilt your back up and feel the familiar stretch. It's better than you've ever been able to get it on your own. You can't help the soft groan that leaves your lips. The last time those muscles had been used was before you joined the 141, when you'd still had a boyfrie-

Two hands grab at those spots. Large thumbs work circles into the areas. Despite yourself, you moan. This was going a bit too far but...

The more he kneads the more you fall to your knees. You can't hold the position with your back up anymore. You practically collapse onto the mat, ass up, Ghost knelt over you.

He still doesn't let up. His thumbs dig into those circles hard enough it should hurt but instead you only feel bliss. You bite your lip, it feels so fucking good. Eventually he relents, and stops digging into you. You whine at the absence.

"That feels so good." You groan, voice sounding way too needy for what just occurred.

"M' glad." Ghost huffs amusement evident in his tone.

Ghost grabs you and flips you over onto your back. He grabs one of your legs and pushes it as far forward towards your head as he can without hurting you. He does the same to the other. It's a weird position, but it's not far off from some of the other ones you're used to. It burns but it also feels good. Considering you're flat on your back, you feel supported.

You smile up at him, a little breathless but also happy that he's willing to help you out. Yoga did not seem like something any where near his wheelhouse.

"I didn't know you liked yoga. How did you learn about this stuff?" You ask, using your own arms to hold your legs in position as Ghost gets up higher on his knees.

Ghost huffs behind his mask as he looks down at you. He narrows his eyes, his head blocking out the white light of the overhead flourescents. You feel a hand slide between the material of your shorts and the curve of your ass.

"The Kama Sutra."

[worstgenerationloser]

,, Indulgence. ''

Pairings: Ace, Shanks, Beckmann, and Luffy x Reader (separately!)

Summary... nsfw headcanons revolving around the topics of virginity, sex, masturbation...

A/N: This is only part one, might be split into two parts. I also wrote oneshots for each character below, but I burned out too quick, so I stored them away, but they will be posted!

Portgas D. Ace.

Ace is most definitely a virgin, not that he can't get anybody to spend the night with him, considering he's a very handsome young man. He would rather spend his time eating, sleeping, and enjoying his time in Whitebeards crew than having sex, he doesn't see it that way because he has zero clue what sex is, he's fairly educated, and he most definitely has seen a few things by pure accident in various towns, not that he made a big deal out of it, he just scurries away.

He's a virgin, and hardly masturbates, his mind is always preoccupied with other matters. That being said, what turns him on?

Ace doesn't exactly have a type, but if he were to display any sexual interest in anybody, the sense of romance would have to appear first. He's scared of hurting those he loves, so you have to be super strong to ensure that you won't die and leave him with unfulfilled dreams of love. He doesn't care what they identify as, his lover needs to have strength that could crush rookie pirates dreams.

When he masturbates, he likes to be in a dark, quiet place, he is mildly embarrassed at the fact he's touching himself sometimes, so he tries to keep quiet. Without a partner or a crush, he doesn't feel himself wanting more than just five minutes or so with his hand every other month when he feels a little bit pent up. Ace is such a sweet boy, but once he develops romantic feelings for you, he finds himself thinking of you one too many times during those few minutes alone, and eventually his romantic feelings bring wanting and longing for more than simple, sweet love.

Because he's just so sweet, he feels ashamed of his feelings for you at first. He can't stand the way he feels, it's not like he's some some pervert, right? Could he even pursue a relationship with you? He likes to think he's mature, calm, and cool, but on the inside he's still pretty immature.

If he's gonna lose his virginity, it's gonna be a while after you two start dating, he isn't with you for sex, that's for sure. Again, sex is the least of his worries, so you would have to approach the topic yourself, because, trust me, it's gonna save you a lot of time and suffering from waiting for him to make a move. He's a proper gentleman with you no matter what, and he makes up for his inexperience with his eagerness to please.

His losing his virginity is something he would have never imagined. So, who knew he would like you touching his body so much? Seriously, he finds out way too quickly that there's no way he could have achieved such a pleasure all by himself. The most physical contact he gets from others nowadays is a pat on the back from the other commanders, maybe a handshake or two, and other than that, it's just him being punched upon various other things.

To lose his virginity and indulge himself in fine dining (you) , he embodies his mature side, and decides to have a discussion with you.

⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄

Red-Haired Shanks.

Shanks? A virgin? He lost his virginity a long time ago, and that's probably why he's so confident. I don't think he has a single insecure bone left in his body by the time he's 20. He doesn't need one, anyways, the boy inherited Dark King Rayleigh's charms as if he were his son, and sometimes it's super annoying. He isn't a complete fuckboy, but he definitely got around a lot when he was a young man, but after ten years of constant hookups, be it women, men, or anybody not on the spectrum, he made the decision to settle down... Mostly because one of his old flings had a small pregnancy scare and he was horrified.

Shanks is pretty experienced, to put it simply, he knows how to put his charms to good use, how to get anybody to drop their pants after a nice long flirting session, or, if they aren't the type for casual hookups, after a sweet date.

That being said, he prefers having intercourse over masturbation, actually, I do not believe he has used his own hand to please himself in... Many years. But, as previously mentioned, even a man like him manages to settle down. Shanks, like Ace, would only manage with a lover who would be strong enough to impress his crew, that being said, if you want him to genuinely love you for anything besides your body, you have to play hard to get. (Was that term used correctly? It's 2 am)

He is a natural flirt, so charismatic it's scary. So when you reject his advances, he is very taken aback, and it fuels his sexual fantasies. He would burn through many of women, trying to get rid of this pure sexual frustration he feels every second you're near, and for a moment he was considering begging you to atleast let him see your naked body. But, after a month or two, he lays in bed, staring up at the ceiling, the smell of someone's body spray melted into his red hair, and he feels something other than lust for you. Actually, he was sure it was always there, but maybe he was too foolish to notice or see it.

Cue him asking you out, being absolutely overjoyed when he gets to call you his, wedding bells ringing in his head. (Though he is a pirate, and cannot have his marriage recognized legally)

You shortly realize he is more terribly perverse than he let on.

Shameless groping, dirty whispers, excessive nudity (though, if it was shanks, I'm sure nobody would mind👀) and lots and loootsss of advances. He is obviously willing to stop if you dislike such things, though.

Shanks never really saw himself loving someone outside of sex, but now that he is alive and loving, he just can't stop. But, of course, the pervert is itching to screw you, though he isn't purely thinking of sex, the thought pops up constantly and it makes the palm of his hand itch. He wants your first time to be special, but the longer he waits, the more he wants it, the more he dreams of it, the more he just can't help but stare at you when you straighten your back, following the curve of your spine down to your... He is very obviously staring.

During intercourse, Shanks prefers to top, but he's not a stone top by any means, he likes to switch maybe once a month, his all time favorite position? Prone bone. Watching you lay in bed on your stomach has him drooling, and he might as well be rabid because he absolutely will be plotting, asking you to stay that way while he straddles you, offering a seemingly innocent back massage... It was, in fact, not.

⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄

Benn Beckmann

Benn Beckmann is the man women and men alike dream about. He isn't a virgin, that's for sure.

I mean... He's an older man, he has quite a bit of experience, and I think, contrary to popular belief, he chases women a lot more than his captain. Beck is more often than not chatting up a pretty lady anytime the red-haired pirates dock at an island, a whole crew of whores, they are. I wouldn't be surprised if a few of the crew have screwed the same person before... Beck has a story about that involving Shanks and somebody else, and it may or may not have ended in a threesome, but that's simply what the rumors say.

He is one of the red-haired pirates, and he isn't completely devoid of sentiment or some oddly nonchalant guy, he has feelings, wants, and needs too, his mental health wouldn't keep up on the crew of partygoers if he was so uptight. Beck doesn't like to lust over people unless they show the same type of interest in him; don't get me wrong because he does find people attractive and he is not at all feeling guilty for eyeing a pretty piece of eye candy or even whistling at someone every once in a while, he doesn't want to imagine screwing every good looking person he sees is all.

He is a big man, he looks like he could snap somebody in half with a singular flex of his bicep, not to mention he's the first mate of an emperor of the sea; Beck is just as strong as Shanks, and as the red-haired pirates gain power and fame, he finds himself a little more pent up, though people flock to him so he doesn't complain much. Who doesn't want a man like him in their bed, anyways?

Though, he does please himself from time to time, of course. He opens the drawer of his desk full of magazines, takes his pick and gets straight to work, ensuring the door is locked. He's getting straight to the point, dropping his pants down to his ankles whilst leaning back in the chair he's in, closing his eyes to take in the moment. It isn't too frequent, and it's not a big deal if he can't find some time to himself, he knows somebody else will always make time for him, anyways.

Beck has a high libido, and has taken a liking to pretty ladies in particular, but that doesn't mean his taste involves one gender exclusively, of course, he's happy to take somebody to bed if they look good enough. Concerning romantic relationships, he doesn't really see any of that happening, his life is full of freedom and adventure, he's merely tied down to his crew and he prefers to keep it that way.

But... if he just so happened to develop romantic feelings for you, it would happen one of three ways. Maybe you two had a bit of a friends with benefits relationship, you being one of the red-haired pirates making it easier for you two to meet up for nightly trysts; Or maybe you happened to be a friend of Shanks, perhaps during his time on Rogers crew, maybe you were rivals, or maybe just plain old friends, a friend of his captains is a friend of his. Maybe he's fucking you nearly every day and night, and his feelings got a little out of hand one somewhere along the way... Either way, it was pretty easy for lust to turn into love and infatuation.

Beck was wary of welcoming you into his heart, but he did so, and he rushed over you like a heavy flood. He isn't acting like he was in heat, like his captain would with his significant other, he prefers to love you quietly, but of course his hand would slip lower down your back every once in a while and completely dwarf your ass as he groped you, holding his cigarette in his teeth as he exhaled the smoke from his mouth. He's definitely an ass man.

When it comes to thinking of having sex with you, he's a little nervous. He's respectful to all his hookups, and he is very confident in that aspect but he is absolutely ginormous and he doesn't wanna split you in two in the literal sense. It will hurt for sure, he knows that, you're gonna whine and cry out all night long, he knows that too, but he wants you, and he knows you want him, as your lover, he begins to discuss it with you as casually as he can, his voice smooth and maybe a little rough during the entire ordeal.

He makes his move after a sweet date, loving on you all night and kissing you all the way back to his bedroom, mostly because he hadn't taken anybody there before, and he wanted your first time with him to be special.

⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄

Monkey D. Luffy.

Luffy could not care less about nudity, and he cares even less about sex. In Alabasta, the only reason he even reacted to Nami flashing him was because Usopp was there, and Luffy really didn't mind seeing Hancock's naked body.

He has never considered jerking off a day in his life, nudity is just a part of life for him, you got your pants off? That's cool. Just for the fun of it, he's nude. Tits out? His are already out most of the time so it's no big deal. (You can tell I'm having fun with this.)

He's not sure he could fall in love, all he desires is freedom. His lover doesn't need strength, as long as they're kind and they share the same moral code as him, he's overjoyed! He probably will convince them to join his crew, despite being clueless on sex, he has a... Slight understanding of romance, he thinks.

After falling in love with you and feeling various different things with you, he very quickly realizes that he feels a different kind of heat in his body that isn't his rapidly beating heart or his stomach fluttering, which, could also be his stomach growling, but that's besides the point. He's clueless, when Dadan tried to give Ace, Sabo, and him "the talk" he was so grossed out he ran off, leaving Ace in the dust. So, all he knew was that he had a dick, and literally nothing else, so if you're afab, you have to explain stuff to him. When Luffy feels that heat creep into his skin, coursing through his veins, it all rushes to one place.

His shorts feel tight, to the point it's painful, and it's even worse when his eyes land on you. His stomach aches, well, he thinks it does, it feels weird, and that's all he knows. He actually ends up talking to Sanji, the expert in erotica... Or so he says. Now, he's got a pretty good grasp on his sexuality, and he wants to try having sex with you. He doesn't sugarcoat it, doesn't really plan something intricate, he'll walk up to you while you're doing whatever, and he's gonna blurt it out in that same casual tone he has when he says "I'm hungry" , and he might just embarrass you infront of his crew.

"Wanna have sex?" Oh boy, do you.

⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄

END.

likes and reblogs are very much appreciated! ❤️

[wtfsteveharrington]

after midnight | carmen berzatto x reader

summary: chicago is expensive, okay? so you pick up a job outside of the restaurant which just so happens to involve your camera. everything's fine until richie stumbles upon the website and shares it with camry.

contents: perv!carmy, male & female masturbation, sex toys, dirty talk, cam sex, slight dub-con kinda if you look for it. carmy’s honestly a wreck. mentions of unprotected sex, choking, oral sex, overstimulation. please note!! no formal intercourse takes place yet but it's cuming coming but ya girl wants a slow burn

reader description: she/her pronouns, there is semi a hair scene but i use no real descriptors so still vague!

word count: basically 3.9k

author notes: first fic in a year baby and boy did i lose the plot!! filth!! also i sure love saying fuck in this so enjoy that

part two

★–————————–

Richie’s voice is annoying. It echos, ricochets off the walls, and can’t be contained by even the highest quality of sound proofing. Which is why, at 8 in the morning, Carmen’s already considering having to take Excedrin as Richie bursts through the doors. 

“Carmy, Cousin, you’re never gonna fuckin’ believe what I found last night.” He’s out of breath after running in, fumbling around with his phone in a rush to pull something up. He’d spent all night contemplating if he texted Carmen or waited to show him in person. Ultimately the urge to see his reaction won but that didn’t stop Richie from waking up before his alarm out of excitement. “Listen, we’re both grown ass men so I’m gonna say it -“ he’s glancing around to make sure they’re alone, “- So I’m laying there and jerkin’ my shit, right?” 

Carmen’s wincing, pinching the bridge of his nose and contemplating every decision that brought him back to Chicago. 

“Dude, fuck off. I don’t wanna hear -“ Richie tsks, cutting him off. 

“Nah, shut the fuck up because you wanna hear this. In fact, you’re gonna wanna fall to your knees and kiss my shoes and praise my ass as a thank you for finding this.” 

He’s holding up his phone, an iPhone 8 he refuses to upgrade, and illuminated on the screen is a video of you. You, on your knees, in lingerie. You, with your fingers dragging down your chest, across the lace that covers your breasts. Your head falls back as you run your thumbs across your nipples. A sound so angelic coming from your lips that Carmen starts to understand why people spend so much time at Church. He’s convinced you’re hand carved by God, or Buddha, or whatever might be up there. 

Carmy’s instantly feeling a rush of heat across his chest and his cheeks as he takes the sight of you in. It feels wrong but at the same time the coiling in his stomach feels so good he can’t look away quite yet. “Why the…” He’s cut off by a whine coming from Richie’s speaker as you keep teasing yourself. His brain is frying for a second as he tries to focus on finishing his sentence. “How the hell did you find this?” 

“Listen, sometimes I get bored on the same ole sites, okay? Clicked an ad to see who was live and ended up here. Now I stopped watching, obviously, out of respect but this? I’ve known you long enough to know when you gotta thing for someone and you’re not gonna act on it. Also, I caught you staring at her ass as she filled the deep freeze the other night. Kinda gave it away. So this is the way you can still get some pussy while being a fuckin’ pussy.” Richie’s punching the air, clearly proud of himself.

Carmy’s smacking him upside the head, his body now torn between lust and annoyance. “Watch your mouth, alright? That is so fucked, Richie. Put that shit anyway and I better not see you tell a single other person this exists.” 

And yeah, he took note of your screen name before he walked away. Don’t judge him. 

———★–————————–

Look - There have been a lot of times in his life where Carmen hasn’t been proud of himself. But settling back into bed, hooking his thumbs on the waistband of his boxers and pulling them down to rest under his balls? Yeah, he’s not proud to say the least. After seeing even just the glimpse of you this morning though it’s been all he could think about. The. Whole. Fucking. Day. He watched out of the corner of his eye while you bent over the line to scrub down the wall behind your station tonight. Burning to memory the way your ass just slightly jiggled from the aggressive motion of wiping down the surface. A soft grunt coming from you as you reach for something just a little too high. He finally snapped out of it when the smell of the chemicals he sprayed down on his own surface got a little too strong and refocused. 

He wasn’t proud when he ran to the restroom and contemplated just jacking off over the toilet to get some relief. You were clouding his brain, only the rush of the evening giving him some small relief. 

You seemed vocal in the small clip he saw. He’s wondering if you would have asked him to cum for you. Would you think it’s a waste that he’s cumming down the drain instead of covering your ass with it? Filling your mouth and making you swallow every drop around him? Or, Jesus Christ, would you wrap your legs around his waist and beg him not to pull out? 

So yeah. Carmy’s had quite the fucking day to say the least. 

He’s finally home and running straight to bed. His stuff dropped in a heap by the front door and was easily forgotten. Throwing himself back onto the mattress after ripping off his shirt and his pants. Left just groaning into the empty room, his cock twitching at the thought of you. Your page has been sitting on an Incognito tab all day and it’s finally, finally being loaded up. This feels like an invasion of privacy in a way but Carmen can’t quite think logically with how heavy his balls feel and how painfully hard he is. There’s not much time to spare so he clicks the first video you’ve uploaded that he can.

And there you are. 

Sitting in the middle of a big bed and rubbing your hands along your thighs, smiling at the camera. His heart is twitching, cock is twitching, everything is fucking twitching. And you’re just sitting there, licking your lips and sliding your hands under the thin material of some weird lace one piece he wants to rip off. 

“Hi there, Pretty Boy.” Your voice is music to his ears and Carmy can’t take it any longer. His fist is wrapping around his cock, a broken moan filling the room as he finally gets some relief. “I’ve been waiting for you to come home all day.”

Sue him, but he’s skipping ahead a little. There’s not much time until he cums and he needs to see you. All of you. He’s gripping his phone with one hand, bringing the other that’s around his cock up to his mouth to spit in. His thumb is haphazardly trying to keep the phone balanced while scrubbing through the video until he thinks he’s at a good spot. You’re laid back now, thighs spread for the camera and pussy on display. Carmen’s muttering to himself about how gorgeous you are, longing to tell you in person. You’re holding this royal blue dildo in your hands that’s suddenly his biggest enemy. He deserves to be there, not this stupid, useless chuck of silicone. There’s a whimper from the speaker as you take the toy and slide it along yourself, tapping it twice against your clit. “Fuck, I need you.” 

Fuckin’ hell does he needs you too. 

His fist is clamped around his dick once again, fucking his hips up into the the slick, tight grip. You’re still teasing yourself by sticking just the head of the dildo in before gasping and pulling it back out. “Please, Baby. I need you so bad, need to come for you.” His brain is breaking. An animalistic urge taking over to fuck you until you can’t move, can’t think, just a blubbering mess begging him for more. Without warning you push the dildo all the way in, throwing your head back with a pleasured scream. 

Carmy gasps, hips sputtering and losing their rhythm as he watches you fuck yourself. He’s stroking himself at the same pace you’re moving the dildo, imaging it’s you he’s fucking into. Picturing you laid under him, your breasts covered in hickies because he hates the idea of these… Perverts watching you get off. He wants to mark you, claim you as his. His balls are tightening and he can’t think of the last time he came this quick. It’s almost embarrassing - What are you doing to him? 

Your free hand comes up to shove two fingers in your mouth, lewdly sucking them for the camera. The sucking noise now accompanying the wet, addictive sounds of your pussy being fucked. Carmen whimpers, actually fucking whimpers, and twists his wrist over his cock to get a little more friction. Your voice hits him once again as you slide your wet fingers out of your mouth and down your throat. “Oh fuck I’m so close. So, so close. Are you close, Baby? Want you to come with me.” You’re lightly choking yourself, a whining mess. 

Carmy’s aware he’s talking to an empty room but he can’t stop himself. “Fuck, oh fuck. Gonna come for you.” And his stomach coils, hips sputter, the phone falling to the bed as he has to let go of it as his orgasm washes over him. He’s slack jaw, warm cum landing on his chest and the sounds of you finishing at the same time ringing out from his phone. 

Oh he’s so fucked. 

————–——★–————

Carmy slept well for once in his life. His orgasm lulling his body to sleep, dreams filled of you. How beautiful you look sucking his cock. The way you must sound while he eats you out. And he takes his time in his dream. Tongue dragging between your folds as his rough hands hold your hips in place. You’re powerless, made to lay back and let him eat you out for his own pleasure. Tongue circling around your clit but he waits until you’re close to tears to stop teasing. He’d praise you. “Look how fucking wet you are, Princess. You’re already getting the bed wet, aren’t you? Gonna have to lick you for hours to get you all cleaned up. Can you say please, huh? Ask me to suck on your clit, Baby. You know you need it.” 

He woke up hard and overstimulated, rolling over onto his stomach and pathetically dragging his hips against the warm bed to get some much needed friction along his cock. Carmy’s telling himself how pathetic this is and forcing himself to push off the bed and get into the shower before he’s late. 

Yes, he jacked off in the shower before work. 

He had to. 

Carmy can’t decide if it’s heaven or hell when he walks in to see you standing in the kitchen. 

You’re on your tiptoes, balancing haphazardly as you’re reaching up to change the light. There’s a wobbly step stool under you. Everyone keeps saying it needs to be replaced but it continues to live on. Your face is scrunching up in concentration. Carmy’s chuckling at the sight and ignoring the way he feels his balls tug at the sight of you. “What’re you doing there, Chef?” 

You huff in annoyance, finally untwisting the light cover from the ceiling. “Damn light went out right as I started veggie prep. Hate to be a bother but will you come spot me while I’m up on this thing? I’ve seen Fak bust his ass one too many times to trust it.” 

Carmy can’t verbally respond at first, instead stalking over to stand next to you. His hand comes up to cup the back of your knee and he’s lying to himself saying it’s for your own safety. To keep you balanced. “Yea well something tells me you’re less clumsy than Fak. I’ve seen that guy fall over while just standing still.” 

And you laugh. 

You laugh. At him. At his joke. He, Carmen Berzatto, made you laugh. The sound filling his ears and now his damn heart and balls are both reacting to you and what the hell is he supposed to do with all these emotions. 

“Don’t distract me up here, Chef.” He doesn’t mind taking commands from you. Silently reaching up to hold the light fixture you’re passing him as you change gears to switch out the lightbulbs now. 

And maybe his eyes are wandering around the kitchen to see who else might catch a glimpse of you two together. Everyone who’s in so far is honed in on their prep task and Carmy thanks God that Richie hasn’t shown up yet today. 

He’s become quite faithful since he started falling for you it seems. 

It happens, by chance, that you feel a little unsteady and Carmen tightens his grip on the back of your leg. Fingers digging into your soft skin. He’s looking down at the stool to make sure it’s level before looking up to take in the sight that is his hand around your leg. 

And he stops looking there. 

Okay fine that’s a fucking lie - he’s looking up. Eyes trailing up your thighs, following along the curve of your ass. When you have to lean forward just slightly to twist in the light cover he’s convinced he can see the outline of your pussy through the thin material of your leggings. He’s contemplating his options - If he could, would he lean in and lick over the outline? His warm mouth teasing you through your leggings. Through your underwear. Are you wearing underwear? He’s torn between picturing you with or without them. 

Or would he slide his hand up your leg, palming your thigh as he goes. Cupping over you and dragging his middle finger across the shape of you. Memorizing the feeling. Would you whine? Grind down against his hand? He doesn’t think you’d shoo his touch away. 

God he just knows you’re a needy little thing. 

He wonders what it would feel like for you to lick your own wetness from his jaw after he’s decided he’s done savoring you. To taste you on your own tongue when he kissed you after. You’d look so pretty with his cum dripping down your lips too. All fucked out and exhausted and full of bliss. 

“Okay, I think I got it fixed, Carmy.” God, he’s so fucked for thinking of you like this as you’re innocently changing the light. Just trying to improve the kitchen and he’s thinking about ruining you. He was so caught up in daydreaming that he didn’t even feel you take the light cover back out of his hand and screw it into place again. 

You’re beaming down at him, using his shoulders as arm rests as you bounce down from the stepping stool. His hand grazes your ass - A total accident. He swears it. You reach behind him to sit the screwdriver down, your chest firmly against his. Nothing thinking anything of the personal space violation as you’re used to it from so many slammed nights in the kitchen. 

“Thank you for helping me. Sorry it was basically just five minutes of my ass in your face.” Carmy chokes. 

His cheeks are hot. 

Fuck is he blushing? 

He’s sputtering out of his words. “It uh, it wasn’t in my face. Not that I looked, y’know. Just uh… Just - just trying to say that I’m happy to help.” He sounds like an idiot

You’re cocking an eyebrow, clearly entertained. “Holy shit, Carmy.” You pat your hands against his chest, not knowing your touch was like fire on his skin. He grabs the screwdriver and makes a beeline to the office to put it away for you. 

Sure he grabbed a rag on the way. No it’s not for him to jack off into while he thinks of you. 

Okay fine, it is. 

“Fuck me.” The only thing Carmy can risk trying to say as the door shuts heavy behind him and his pants hit the ground. 

———————–★–———

Carmen doesn’t avoid you now but he certainly makes it hard to get close to you. He’s too distracted when you’re around. Maybe there’s a bit of guilt mixed in too at his new night routine. Leave the restaurant, load your page, and wait to see what happens. New videos? New pictures? You were wormed into the back of his brain and it had to stop. 

So your station got moved further down rotation. You’re at the end of the line on the left, he’s at the start on the right. It helps clear his mind, lets him hone in on perfecting what goes to the floor. 

He’s able to move quickly, shifts blowing by as the restaurant’s rush takes all his attention. The clock clicks down two minutes till close, everyone working in silence to get the place flipped and go home. He’s wrapping up with Syd, helping her make a few adjustments to expo before grabbing a dead plate off of the end of the line and heading to the office with his food and a cup of water in hand. He needs a mental minute, a bite of food, and to let his thoughts all catch up. 

The door’s already cracked and he’s halfway through the entry way when he registers you. Sitting there. At his desk. Your legs are crossed, a cool damp towel resting over your eyes. He wants to turn on his heel and retreat but decides that he can’t treat you any differently just because he’s developed some silly little crush. Running away would be treating you different. 

“You good, Chef?” 

To which you groan. Different from the ones he’s used to - This one is guttural, pained. You press your hands flat against the rag and will the cool temperature to help the pressure in your head. “Killer migraine, that’s all. Shit was moving so fast tonight and I wacked the back of my head on something in the walk in. Sorry for being in here, Carm. Just uh, needed a second.” You should push up out of the chair, show your respect. But right now you’re half convinced that standing up would be detrimental so for now you’re cemented to the seat. 

“Heard.” Carmen nods to himself, sitting down the plate before opening up the desk drawer as quietly as possible. Your knee is pressing into the side of his thigh, grounding and warm. He fishes out a bottle of medicine, shaking out two pills. “Hold out your hand.” 

You take a second to brace yourself for movement, sitting up and moving the towel off your eyes. Letting it pile up into a clump on the desk besides you. There’s no way around it - You look pitiful. Pouting up at Carmen as he hands over two pills and his cup out water. You take the pills diligently, taking a few gulps and letting your eyes fall back closed as you will them to kick in instantly. “Can I ask a favor?” 

“Anything, Chef.” 

Slowly, so not to shake yourself up, you turn the chair until your back is to Carmen. “Will you see if I gotta bump back there? Kinda terrified I gave myself a concussion but I don’t wanna believe it was that hard.” 

He snickering, a grin pulling up the corners of his mouth as he steps closer. “Well you’d absolutely fuck me if you needed to file workmen’s comp so I’m gonna need you to be fine, ‘kay? Way too much fuckin’ paperwork to do on a Friday night.” You start to laugh but it’s quickly cut off into a small groan of appreciation as you feel warm, rough hands clasp either side of your shoulders. 

Carmen works his way up your neck and catches himself holding his breath as his fingers brush along your scalp. He’s taking his time, savoring the moment, all under the pretense of taking care of his employee. That’s all. “Think we’re both in the clear. You feeling alright besides the headache? Need me to hold up some fingers for ya to guess? Haven’t managed to cut any off so we’ve got all ten to work with.” He’s got you laughing again while rough fingers work their way back down to your neck. The feeling of the vibration of your laughter against his hands sending chills down his back. 

Wordlessly Carmen gets to work rubbing your shoulders. Tender, deep. Years of practice rolling out dough and desserts and tenderizing meat coming into play as he continues to knead away at your tense body. You let out an appreciative moan and Carmen has to start thinking of something to keep his inevitable hard on from being obvious. 

When his hands come up closer to your neck once again he’s hit with flashbacks of the first video he watched. You choking yourself — Is that something you truly liked? If his hand came around to cup your throat, palm resting on one side with his fingertips firmly against the other, and lightly squeezed would you moan? Rub your thighs together in search of some hint of relief? 

“Are you always this good with your hands, Chef? Hmm? Can’t imagine you giving Marcus this treatment.” You’re laughing and can practically hear the smirk in Carmen’s voice as he responds. “Yeah - You uh, didn’t know that? I just love you know, rubbing shoulders. It’s my thing. Kick your ass all night and then rub the stress out.” 

He’s blanching a little at his reply. Kinda obvious but okay then, Carmen. You reach up, putting your hands atop his with a little smile. “Well thank you for… Rubbing my stress out, Chef.” 

Carmen’s red. Head to toe just bright red. “Of course, Chef. Anytime.” He’s entertaining to say the least as you pat his hands before spinning around in his chair. You snag another drink of water, throwing him a wink before moving to exit the office. Your hand runs along his chest, an appreciative gesture, as you head back to the floor. 

——————————★–

Late Saturday night Carmen’s so exhausted that he barely has the energy to take his work clothes off. Falling haphazardly onto his old couch, kicking his work boots off one at a time. His eyes are heavy, body aching, and he almost falls asleep before he gets to see you. 

But he’s fishing his phone from his pocket, refreshing the all too familiar landing page to see you’re actively live. How you have the energy is beyond him. 

You’re standing there trying on clothes that someone must send in and Carmy feels a pang of jealousy. He’s watching through half hooded eyes as you slip in a pair of shorts, turning your behind towards the camera and pulling them up just slightly to put more of your ass on display. You’re chatting away about the material while slowly pulling them down to reveal just this frilly little pair of panties that was sent in as well. 

He’s propping the phone up on the armrest of the couch, laying on his side while he watches you chat away. It’s soothing. Almost like an ASMR video. 

Carmen’s not sure when he fell asleep - Somewhere in-between you trying on a third outfit and attempting to clean up your bed from all the packaging. He finds you soothing, comforting. He makes a mental note to hunt out some sort of wish list you must have for these items before passing out and, once again, dreaming of you.

[m0chisenpai]

Could you consider doing a fwb reader who refuses to be with them because she thinks that they are so toxic (but they are pinning over her HARD because i like my men obsessive over me)

(also i said "they" because i didnt knew who to pick 😭 but this just screams lestat or armand)

The hunt

˚｡⋆ lestat de lioncourt x black!fem!reader x armand

in which neither lestat nor armand can keep their eyes off box one

You joined the theatre after watching your maker burn to a crisp. Truth be told you would have done him in yourself had they not stepped in. He was ancient and delirious, you were a pretty face plucked from the slums.Wrong place at the wrong time led you to several years of torture shackled to his side. You posed as his distant relative, some nights you were his niece, other's his heiress bastard.

And in return you lived a comfortable life of luxuries. It was bearable, you no longer had to scrape for food or warmth nor shelter. Yet none of that mattered did it?

Though you had to bear his unwarranted advances, his unwanted pet names, it all made your skin crawl. Sharing his bed was a rare occassion, but you made sure he was drunk on blood to manage those nights better. Anything to satiate his loneliness and perserve the little dignity you had left.

Tonight he said he needed to attend to his affairs, leaving you to explore the city. A rare treat that you savored in all of its glory. You made unnecessary purchases on his account. New gowns, shoes and fans, head pieces for the upcoming season and gatherings to come. You drained the dressmaker, a fop, and made arrangements with a singer of the opera for the next night.

When you arrived to your Paris manor to find it in shambles and the man burning amidst it all, all you could do was sigh and use his flames to light the cigarette while you watched him turned to ash. Perhaps you were dizzy from the two you consumed, but you felt like you were on a cloud. As though you were outside of your body watching him crymble to dust.

You hardly flinched when the carriage boy screamed for help, at least you asume it was for help he was speaking in french.

What were you to do now? His accounts were already settled in my name, but I liked this home. Now I'll have to replace my belongings, find new lodging, how burdensome.

"Your maker is no more fledgling," his presence startles you but you stand your ground against the elder now standing at your side. Honeyed eyes watching you concealed behind false glasses but he is amused by how you stand your ground. How you don't flinch as his children gorge themselves ont he carriage boy whose wails are quickly silenced.

"I can see," you tap the ashes into the flames. "I was not made aware more of us were in this world. He always as though we alone held the Gift." Arman's eyes train upon you, reading and looking through every memory. And he finds you are in fact right. Dragged into the manors chambers you are locked and groomed there until you cracked.

"Your maker like many wanted you in the dark, fledgling," his eyes soften as you nod. There is emptiness in your eyes, like you are here yet your mind is far away. "He violated the ancients laws, disrespected my coven and reaped the consequences of his choices. He was given multiple chances to make himself known and atone for his actions."

"Coven?" Now he has your attention. You step up to him careful if you were next on this vendetta. "He never told me about laws or covens. Just said to tell him if I saw any more of us in the shadows, he moved around a lot between his homes. I smelled them, but I was too bored to tell the pig."

He should have known. You shed not a single tear for your maker when his children descended upon the maddened vampire. All you could think of was no longer having to deal with him anymore. No longer were you forced to share his coffin, feel his disgusting hands. Armand felt your disgust, it churned his stomach of the images of your Maker.

He saw himself in your eyes. You and him were one in the same. Two broken souls forced into this life, yet you adapted well just as he. A hunger to learn more is clear in your thoughts. He holds his hand to you, "come. Join us. And I can guarantee you will not suffer the same fate."

You stare at his hand, discarding the cigarette next to you. "Will I truly?"

"Yes, come." There was a softness to his voice. You brought a nurturing side out to him he never knew was there. As he guided you back to the theatre, not once did his hand leave yours. You would spend the first night in his coffin, just in case he did try and kill you.

Armand presents you in front of the coven the following night. You found them off putting, but you would grow used to their presence. All eccentric and coy. From across the world and living many lifetimes. You would adapt just as you did when you were once human.

"Lestat De Lioncourt, one of our actors and founding members," you bow your head to him but he takes your hand in his pressing a kiss to your hand.

"Will this beauty be joining us on stage Armand?"

"No, she will observe with me for the time being until she finds her place and completes her intiation."

The blonde groans looking upon you with a twinkle in those blue eyes, "Ah maitre, it is sin to hide such a beautiful face." He flashes you a cheeky smile which you quickly brush aside, merely offering him a nonchalant tilt of your head. "You would do good to perform on the stage sweet one. The crowds will be in compete awe."

"And I hope you put that charm to use on stage Mr.Lioncourt" you retort stepping back beside Armand. "And you'd do well to keep your hands to yourself, surely your master taught you that?"

"You have a bite in you fledgling, don't lose it."

French boys. You can only shake your head turning on your heel.

They were all the same. Flowery words, thoughts of lust and poetry. Philosophy. But this blonde beauty, this one was different. No thoughts of heaven or hell, evil and good. No his thoughts intrigued you. A hedonistic vampire, he was different from the prudish man you grew beneath.

Perhaps this French boy would appease your appetites.

The first year you find yourself being a production assistant of some sort to Armand. You have your own quarters in the theatre. Filled with your gowns, jewels, your riches. You offer him input in changes, or adjusting scenery in his scripts when need be. Always sitting in box one of the performances, eyes watching yet your hand moves quickly at anything that is the slightest bit off.

He won't admit it out loud but he felt you were the fledgling he was meant to make. Not your old maker.

His affections grew into something else. Was it romantic? No, vampires felt more than just human emotion. This was supernatural. Primal. As he sat in the box, he watched your gaze upon Lestat. You sat up straighter eyes wide with pride and excitement. One of the rare moments where your hand was still.

He wanted you to look at him like that.

"He's off script again," Armand clicks his tongue, he looks over to you. He's expectant that you will agree as you did any other night.

"Yes, but don't you think it sounds better this way. Less boring if you ask me. Let the sweet French boy have this night."

"It would had he done it during rehearsals." His eyes watch as your fiddle with the cuffs of your gown. He takes your hand into his own, now he has your eyes which look up at him.

"Yes?"

"Nothing, I just wanted your eyes for a moment fledgling."

"Are you growing soft Armand?" You smirk up at him, sitting up and tilting your head as to suggest you were to kiss him which he anticipates.

"The next act is starting, maitre," you whisper situating yourself to watch the performance. His eyes open, looking now to the stage, where Lestat bows smirking up at the box as you stand to join the applause.

You pace back and forth in front of Lestat who reads from his script. The coven look as dead as their hearts, the poor diva couldn’t get his line. He had been slacking lately as death, and he needed to improve for the upcoming performance.

You wouldn’t admit it, but he played death well. He was as vicious as death. But you needed death to have romance to it. Death was as beautiful as he was fearsome. We all must face it, it steals, it seduces, but int he end Death never leaves epty handed. Hence, why you believe Lestat plays death well.

"Come now Lestat as though you are in love!" Armand exclaims. He reads the line again but it sounds more...harsh than loving. You can see it upon the woman who steps in as your victim for the night. Her lip is turned up similar to your own. Poor thing, you shake your head now standing to your feet to approach the stage.

"Lestat surely you bedded enough women to know how to speak sweet love. Speak as though you wish to lure her, to drink her lust and her blood." You look up at him, he looks down upon you and in one big swoop pulls you to the stage by your free arm.

"My bounty is as boundless as the sea," he whispers it tenderly, his hand cups your cheek the other still holding the script in hand though his eyes are trained upon yours.

"My love as deep; the more I give to thee. The more I have, for both are infinite." He is closer now, head tilted as though he were to lay a passionate kiss upon your lips. "How was that, sweet one?"

"Better, now do it with your bride of death tonight." You whisper using your hands to push away from your chest. Walking past him into the wings hoping that he did not see the moment of vulnerability in your eyes.

Armand can't help but watch as you write at your desk, beside the new set of perfumes and fans he recently gifted you. Though you affectionately treasure the fountain pen he had your initials engraved upon. He watches your lips move slowly with the words on the pages. Your French has improved with his assistance. But you slip up, speaking in poor dialect as he calls it.

Poor dialect does not suit beautiful lips he tells you over and over. Therefore he takes it upon himself to spend the few moments before the sun rises reading with you.

He feels a presence all too familiar behind him and fights the snarl on his lips and he doesn't need to turn his head to know who now stands behind him.

"Shouldn't you be practicing your lines, puce."

"My apologies maitre," Lestat speaks in false humility bowing his head. "I wished to practice them with-"

"Unnecessary. I will be speaking with her regarding the performances and coven matters. Check with one of the children, surely another can play your bride well enough.”

“Ahh yes,” Lestat hums with that boyish grin. Taking a bold step to stand beside Armand, who continues to watch your hand move with quickness across one of his scripts.

They don’t know, but you listen. You hear their thoughts and voices from outside of your door. Desires to have you as their own. You know it. Felt it the moment both men entered your lives.

But no longer will you be held captive by another man’s desires. No, the fates of their hearts shall be in the palm of your hand this time. You have tasted freedom and felt what control has felt for once. Who were you to let it slip from your fingers now? You give them your eyes looking at them both now.

You smile, Lestat happily returns it. Armand merely bows his head to enter. He clearly has told Lestat something because he is gone in an instant.

For now, you’ll indulge them. Let them think they are winning. It’s fun when your food is unaware. That is what Armand tells you during one of your hunts. It makes the blood sweeter, and the hunt more invigorating.

Thus begins the hunt.

[ghost-proofbaby]

september love (e.m.)

eddie finds you awake on the first night he's home from the hospital, and wonders what you're thinking.

pairing: eddie munson x reader

warnings: mentions of canon ending of season 4, except eddie didn't die. mentions of hospital and medical procedures (in passing). sort of sad, sort of not. a little bit of angst? hurt/comfort. religious imagery (specific mentions of heaven).

wc: 1.7k+

an: this was just some sort of weird rambling upon seeing the poem mentioned above at like 11 pm? 1 am? who knows. time is a construct. also, reader is compared to a 'violent' dog/animal during eddie's recovery, and if you like this metaphor/vibe, then i strongly suggest and urge you to go read @myosotisa's fic Half Life. she does it far more beautifully than i ever could, and it is one of my favorite fics. ever.

Your head is on his chest. 

Your temple and your ear are flush with the soft cotton of his wrinkled t-shirt, the one he insisted upon sleeping on his first night home, and it’s all you can think about. The smell of week old laundry, the stubborn linger of a cologne gifted too long ago to remember the worn name of. A steady heartbeat that still pumps along a little too slow for your liking. The rise and fall of each promised breath that you force your lungs to pace themselves with. Just enough heat radiating off of him to keep you warm, here in bed, here in the dim light of twilight as he rests.

No tubes and no IVs to worry about. No nurses barging in every ten minutes. No beeping of a dozen machines to be your symphony tonight. 

No, you don’t need a machine now to keep track of his heart rate. You’ve learned to do that entirely on your own; your heart has learned how to match his with each dulled thump against the skin you cling to through this dingy old t-shirt.

It can’t be long after 3 AM, the moonlight almost as bright as a rising sun as it peeks itself in through the curtains of the window, as if whispering to check if you might still be awake.

And you are. And all you can think about, is your head on his chest. 

It’s been over a month since you’ve had this type of moment with Eddie. A moment where you’re truly, sincerely, utterly alone with him. Privacy had become a delicacy that you weren’t aware of the fragility of. You hadn’t understood its importance until you had to bask in its absence, always on edge for the next body to walk into the room and take the air out of your lungs. Always anxious for the next sound of news, always worried for the next shoe to drop. 

You’d forgotten what it had felt like for Eddie to twitch his fingers along your spine in his sleep, and for you to be the only witness to his quiet worship, even unconscious. 

Your lips part, and you almost consider whispering hard truths into the trembling night air. There’s a million and one dying words cementing your tongue to the roof of your mouth, and you know that every single one you could even manage to utter would only make you sound like a broken record. 

I’m sorry this happened to you.

I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you.

I’m sorry I couldn’t prevent it. 

All things already said to him when he had been drifting in and out of consciousness in that hospital bed. All apologies already buried between muted sobs as you’d clutched his knuckles a little tighter than you should have, a little too selfish in the moment to wonder if it might be hurting him. The only thing on your mind had been keeping him, holding him, feeling him. He was alive – he was alive. And for the first seven nights of his endless rest, all you could wonder is for just how much longer that desperate prayer could ring true.

Would he leave you again? Would he lose the fight? 

You can’t recall without bias which one of you had been the true wounded animal in that little room, scented with burning bleach and cacophonies of nearby patients just beyond the curtains. 

Eddie, looking up at the police who had finally come once he woke, eyes big and teary as he’d tried to wrap his head around his new reality.

You, baring teeth and claws at them in the end, ready to bite hard at anyone who got too close.

It wasn’t just the police. It was everyone. 

It was the same juxtaposition between the two of you at those nurses who would interrupt the nights, always frowning so dutifully at the sight of your carefully curled figure at Eddie’s side. When friends and family came to visit, and they all had the same look of disbelief. As if they were about to tell you that you had imagined it all; he hadn’t survived, he hadn’t come back to you, you were imagining it. You’d been all bark and awaiting bite towards Steve Harrington and the newly revived Jim Hopper, all the same. Their figures bore no difference to you when it came to protecting what was so holy to you. Him, Eddie, here and alive. Eddie, who slept enough for the both of you those nights. The pain in your back from all the uncomfortable hours spent in that little chair at his bedside was insignificant, all the headaches you’d endured from the smell of iodine that still clung to the air after every surgery were pitiful attempts at the Universe removing you from him. 

If you could, you might try to recall your reaction when Dustin Henderson had babbled on through tears as to what had happened to Eddie when the two were left alone. His final act of heroism, or so he thought. 

But you can’t. Right here, right now, you aren’t capable of living in the past. You’ve been haunted enough these last few weeks, and all your numb mind can handle is counting the beats of his heart. Like the rhythm of a song – 1, 2, 3, 4. 1, 2, 3, 4. Staccato verses that you sometimes whisper in time, getting worried when they don’t follow the infallible metronome you’ve set for him. 

“You’re still awake.”

The murmur of his voice is a drink of cold water, startling in the dark greys and blues wrapping the two of you up. 

You lift your head ever so slightly against your better judgment, “Go back to sleep, love.” 

“Touche.” 

You can see his grin even through the shadows. It’s weak, not yet quite as vibrant as it once had been, but it’s there. He’s still alive. He’s still grinning. 

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” The pads of his fingertips are more intentional against your spine now, longer strokes and mindless shapes, “I’ve got a penny in my pocket if you tell me.”

His words are only slightly slurred. Probably residual of the pain medication they’d prescribed him.

“I wasn’t thinking about anything,” you say, and you mean it.

You hadn’t been thinking. You had just been listening to his heart and his breaths, feeling the weight of him beneath you. 

Little things you had taken for granted once upon a time. Never again, your soul aches as you let your head drop back to his chest carefully. Never again.

“You’re just laying awake, not thinking about anything, at…” he trails off, turning his cheek and squinting in the direction of the alarm clock across the room. The glow is dim, and you know you’ll have to change the batteries soon, “Four in the morning?”

4 AM. Last you had checked, it had been 3 AM. You hadn’t even noticed an hour had passed. 

“Is that really so hard to believe?” you smile up at him, and it’s just as sincere as your words had been. When his honey brown eyes meet yours, warmth drizzles down your entire being. Across your brain, down your spine, wrapping around your limbs. You could spend an eternity here, simmering in his warmth, content to your heart’s fullest capability. 

You’d almost lost him. You’d almost lost this warmth. 

You take a second to memorize his features. Studying him as if you didn’t already know every curvature, every freckle, every winkle better than you knew your own soul. You’re looking at him as if you may never look at him again, and he can tell. 

He doesn’t have to say that he gets it. His hand simply wanders up to cup your face, basking in you as you were him. Two souls, intertwining over overlapping legs and synchronized heartbeats, and he doesn’t have to say a word. 

The moment his fingers card into your baby hairs, you’re turning your mouth quickly to that warm palm. One, two, three kisses. Quick pecks, rapid succession. A secret language that you know he, and only ever he, can begin to understand. 

I love you.

I love you.

I love you. 

It drowns out all sorrow, all guilt, all hauntings. Your cracked lips, and the feeling of those lines across his palms. If there is a Heaven, it’s not somewhere in a pearly gated kingdom above. There are no hark angels and there is no bearded man awaiting. 

It’s here. It’s now. It’s 4 AM, in bed with your lover, getting to experience moments you’d come so close to losing for eternity. 

Do the poets know? They must. All the love, all the adoration, in both your bodies is too abundant for them to not feel it. To not write about it. 

“Go back to bed, love,” you repeat almost a perfect imitation of your first command when he had awakened, and this time, his eyelids flutter with your words, “I’m not gonna disappear between now and sunrise. I promise.” 

“No,” he quickly whispers back as his eyes fully shut, and your palms smooth out the wrinkles of the shirt to feel the ridges of scars hidden for now. Scars he’s ashamed of, for now. Scars you’d one day show all the love in the world to, sacred proof that he came back to you, only once he was ready. One day. “But you’re looking at me like I might.”

His words are heavy in the shades of violet now sinking into the room. But the moon is high in her sky, and the crickets are chirping to the East, and he’s right.

You’re terrified the daylight will steal him from you. You’re terrified the new day might tear away all that you’ve sunk your teeth into. 

“I’m not going to,” he mumbles around a yawn, arms slowly encasing you, pulling you in closer, “I’m not going anywhere. Yeah?” 

He’s back with that warmth, coaxing you right back into heavenly notions with him. You let him; he baits you, and you follow. 

“Yeah.”

It’s a sigh. Of hopefulness, of relief, of belief. 

This time, the I love you is more than a prayer repeated in your mind. And he somehow manages to say it back, just as he begins to slip back under. Still holding you and hands still twitching where they rest against your back. 

Let daylight come. You aren’t capable of worrying about it, or stressing about all that has happened. You aren’t capable of thinking about anything right now, because only one thing matters as your temple and ear find his heartbeat once more. 

Your head is on his chest.

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[partially-controlled-chaos]

Guilty Pleasures

Pairing: Halsin x GN!Reader Rating: Mature/Explicit (NSFW) Warnings: Male masturbation, sexual fantasies, angst with no real resolution, mutual pining, Halsin not being able to relax and take a break for once in his life. Absolutely NSFW. Maybe kinda sort Sub Halsin? Summary: With the shadow curse and the threat of Ketheric Thorm looming over him, Halsin manages to find a bit of solitude in his tent and indulge in his inner most fantasies. Word Count: 9.7K A/N: I’ve always loved Halsin’s line of “that was something I had dreamed about for some time” after spending his first night with him. So, naturally, you can’t tell me this man absolutely didn’t fantasize about the player while alone in his tent at night.  I also want to apologize in advance because I know parts of this feel rushed, but admittedly I've been working this piece for a few months here and there and I'm ready to see it off. I am still pleased with how this turned out, but admittedly isn't my best work out there. I've also developed a cold at the time of proofreading, so I apologize for any errors but I *think* I've gotten them all. Read on AO3 here!

The sharpened steel of a heavy sword clanged to the cobblestones below, the sound resonating through the area, deafening everything to an eerie silence. Halsin stood stone still, his breath coming in heaves as he downed the final foe on the battle field. The shadow-infested husk of a Harper collapsed to the ground at his feet, smoking tendrils dissipating into the air as the essence of what was once a person faded into the darkened sky. Halsin's eyes darted across the landscape, a sudden wave of guilt washing over him as he stared into the never-ending darkness ahead. Bodies, both old and new, littered the streets ahead, having succumbed to the curse that held the land in an ironclad vice for a century.

The feeling of guilt wasn’t new, considering he’d dealt with the pain from the moment the curse was born, but there was something more sinister about seeing the curse firsthand again after so many years away. It seemed hungrier, more vicious even, than he had previously remembered and for the time being, the curse was not ready to be lifted. Thaniel had been plucked from the depths of the Shadowfell and after a fair amount of convincing, Oliver had reunited with his other half. Both were resting safely back at camp, progressing well with healing and mending after being apart for so long, but the threat was certainly far from over. 

Halsin stared into the distance, looking past the bodies in the streets and the twisted, knotted roots of corrupted nature that broke through the stones and into buildings, and set his attention on Moonrise Towers. Ketheric Thorm still drew breath and if what Thaniel had said was true, as long as he remained on this mortal plane, the shadow curse would as well. There was some hope that had started blooming within the mind of the druid, knowing that Thaniel was safe and so much progress had been made towards lifting the curse, but admittedly there was still enough darkness in the world that kept him from becoming too hopeful. Ketheric was a formidable foe and defeating him would be no simple task.

He tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword, his knuckles almost turning white from the pressure. Knowing that a seemingly invulnerable man lived once again and had power while so many had died in the past century because of his corruption filled Halsin with a burning rage; one that settled in his bones and set his skin ablaze. Ketheric must be stopped, at any costs, and Halsin knew he couldn’t truly rest until Ketheric lay dead at his feet and she sun shined down upon the land once more. Halsin’s gaze lingered on the towers in the distance, looming over the land like a beacon ablaze with pixie-fueled light all while shadows licked at his perimeters. 

“Halsin?” A gentle voice pierced through the darkness clouding his thoughts, pulling the veil from his eyes so he could see clearly for the time being. A soft, warm touch to his arm soon followed, cutting through the icy cold that had begun to settle on his skin from the air of the shadow curse. The voice had caught him by surprising, causing the druid to jolt slightly at the touch before regaining composure. He finally tore his eyes from the evil of Moonrise, shifting his eyes downward until your concerned look met his gaze.

“Are you all right?” You asked quietly, your hand still gripping his arm. You scanned over his large frame quickly, scanning for any obvious signs of injury or something life threatening and, much to your joy, found nothing immediately wrong. He fidgeted slightly under your touch, his skin tingling at the contact.

“I am,” he said after clearing this throat, “thank you, my friend.” You nodded slightly, your thumb stroking along the crest of his bicep. Halsin was visibly exhausted, dark circles settling beneath his normally bright eyes, which had dulled the past few days. His mind was elsewhere, distracting him from the battles at hand. Despite having your hand upon him, he felt miles away and untouchable.

Since entering the cursed lands, Halsin had been running double time. He wasted no time in leaving camp to sit by Art Cullagh in Last Light and immediately dove headfirst through a portal to the Shadowfell to find Thaniel. You took note of how he refused to sleep the night after Thaniel had been saved, instead electing to remain up for hours to keep a watchful eye on the boy. He only agreed to leave his side once you had suggested he come with you to find Thaniel’s missing half. You honestly couldn’t remember the last time you saw Halsin rest and, considering he was seemingly more on edge the closer you came to confronting Ketheric, you were worried for you companion.

“Come on,” you said after a moment, “let’s head back to camp. I think we could all do with a rest.” You motioned to your companions, who were more than ready to retire for the evening.

Halsin’s gaze shifted towards Moonrise once again, look on his face making it clear he wanted to press forward. You were convinced that he’d march straight into the inner sanctum of the tower right then and there if you let him. Your grip on his arm tightened, your fingers slipping underneath one of the bands that was pulled taught around his bicep before giving it a gentle tug to recapture his attention. You stood on the tips of your toes, your lips hovering closely to his ear as he leaned slightly to accommodate for the difference in height.

“I’m afraid that if we keep going in this state,” you whispered softly, “one of us might actually be carrying Astarion back to camp and I, for one, do not intend to be that pack mule.” Halsin’s lips spread into a smile as he glanced towards the vampire in question, who had seated himself on a fallen piece of stone until the party was ready to move forward once more.

“I fear you may be right.” He replied after a moments thought. Halsin returned his sword to its holster resting on his back, sliding it in place with a soft click. You pulled your fingers from his bracers, seemingly satisfied with his answer, and began the journey back to camp. 

As he typically did, Halsin followed in the rear, ensuring that everyone stayed together and did not stray too deeply into the shadows. Despite having the blessing of both the moon goddess and a pixie, he wanted to take no changes in losing those closest to him to the curse; not again. You fell behind slightly, allowing Astarion and Karlach to spearhead the journey home as you took the time to speak with the druid.

“Is something on your mind?” You asked as you walked together, doing your best to match his long strides.

“Ketheric is no ordinary enemy,” he said bluntly, deciding to skip small talk and get to the heart of what was bothering him, “he will not be easily defeated.”

“Nothing with us is ever easy,” you said simply, “but that doesn’t mean it’s impossible. I promised you that we’d break the curse. And if defeating Ketheric Thorm is how we do so, then that’s just what we’ll do.” You offered Halsin a gentle smile, which was returned with partial enthusiasm. You knew he was worried, and rightfully so, but you were also confident that at Ketheric would be defeated soon enough. But nothing could be done until everyone, including Halsin, were able to rest. 

You and your companions walked the rest of the way to camp in silence and in relative safety, the battles from the day beginning to settle in your bones as your steps eventually slowed the closer you came to camp. By the time you crested the hill that lead to your camp, the sound of children’s laughter filled the air, cutting through the horrific sounds of the shadow curse like a sharpened knife. A smile came to Halsins lips as he watched both Thaniel and Oliver darting around camp, chasing after an excited Scratch with an equally enthusiastic owl bear cub at their heels. Despite their time apart and in the deepest parts of the shadow curse, both boys seemed to be faring well. Seeing them regaining strength brought a sense of happiness to the camp, something that had been sorely missed since entering the shadows.

Halsin stood at the entrance to the camp, simply watching as the boys and animals played in tandem. It was a small sign, but a sign nonetheless that nature had started to heal and had begun lifting the veil of the shadows. You walked to this side quietly, stopping beside him to watch the boys play and laugh with the camp animals as the rest of your companions stopped by their respective tents to unwind for the evening. You glanced up to Halsin, your neck craning to get his face in full view. You slipped your hand around the edge of his, giving him a soft squeeze. After a moment, Halsin pulled his eyes from the scene before him, finally looking down to meet your gaze once more. You could see the exhaustion in his eyes, yet the sheer determination to stay awake.

“Why don’t you get some rest? And I mean actual rest, not just a trance.” You asked softly, not wanting to come across as demanding, but firm enough to know you were more than merely suggesting. 

Halsin gave a half hearted smile, exhaustion evident on his face as he placed his hand above yours, sandwiching your touch between his battle weary hands. His thumb stroked your knuckle softly, his gaze settling along your slender digits that had wrapped themselves around his hand and gave another reassuring squeeze. His heart fluttered in his chest at your contact, radiating the same calming warmth that had started when you first brushed against his arm. He’d be lying if he said a long nights rest wasn’t calling for him, but he had a duty to uphold before he could indulge his own comfort.

“I must keep watch over Thaniel and Oliver.” He said as he released your hand and pulled his own from your grasp. You scoffed at his reply, almost finding it ridiculous.

“There are seven people in this camp, myself included, that can keep an eye on two children. We can take turns, rotate out if needed.” You offered, hoping he would take your advice and take a night off for once. Instead, he simply shook his head.

“They are my responsibility. They’ve suffered for too long already while I sat back and did nothing. I cannot and I will not fail them now that they are safe.” Halsin was determined to carry on his camp duties as normal, but you were not ready to back down so easily.

“And how do you plan on protecting them if you’re too tired to stand? Just now on the battlefield someone could have come up behind you because you were distracted. Hells, I managed to startle you with a touch.” Your voice was low, but firm. Gods be damned the man before you could be stubborn. His heart was always in the right place, wanting to protect and serve, but his head certainly wasn’t. “Get a bit of sleep. I’ll bring you a fresh bowl of whatever Gale’s managed to make from a couple of fish heads and a few questionable carrots when it’s ready.”

“You don’t have to coddle,” Halsin said firmly, “I will be fine.”

“It’s not coddling if the attention is required.” You shot back quickly, a lick of frustration to your voice, “Would you not do the same for me if the roles were reversed?” Halsin paused at your question, unable to argue your point. Halsin would do anything you asked of him without question. He’d bring you whatever you wanted and offer aid in any way possible. 

“When was the last time you allowed someone to take care of you?” Your voice had softened by now, eyes scanning his face as he searched for an answer. Your eyes locked onto his cheek, which had been streaked with blood.

Halsin remained silent, trying to come up with an answer for your inquiry, but continually ending up without a decent answer. It had been quite some time since he’d allowed himself a chance to relax and unwind, let alone be cared for by others. His service was always demanded by others, yet very rarely offered in return. The residents of the Grove always turned to him for strength, to lead them in Silvanus’ path while keeping tempers at bay, more often than not never managing to appease everyone who resided there and often led to resentment in some form. Or those same people were coming to him day and night, asking for healing of wounds that ranged from the smallest of scrapes to the precipice of death, despite having multiple healers in the inner chambers. 

He genuinely couldn’t remember the last time he gave up control and let someone else take the reigns. He was an Archdruid, a leader, a beacon of light in the darkest of times, but he was also just tired. He admitted to himself that perhaps it would be nice to take a long rest, only awakening when he was ready, and to have you by his side when his slumber ended. To have you seated beside him, a bowl of steaming food in your hands as you offered it to him would be quite the sight. You’d have your usual warm smile across your pretty lips as you sat with him, letting him relax and unwind in your presence. It was a pretty dream indeed.

“You’ll have to let me dote on you one of these days.” You said after a long silence as Halsin had yet to answer your question. You brought your thumb to your lips, swiping your tongue across the pad of the digit quickly until it was lightly damp. Reaching forward, you pressed your palm to Halsin’s cheek and used your now wet thumb to wipe the streak of blood from his skin. You were thankful to not find an injury beneath the blood, but found yourself lingering against his skin, your thumb stroking over his cheekbone. You cared for him, deeply, despite Halsin always finding a way to weave out of your advances. Perhaps you were too forward or perhaps he was simply that consumed with his duties, but either way you craved his attention more and more with each day that passed.

Halsin fought the urge to lean into your embrace, having rejected your advances in the weeks prior during the celebration with the tieflings and not wanting to give mixed signals, but the longer your gentle hand caressed his cheek, the urge became more and more difficult to suppress. Gods how he missed the caring touch of others. It had been too long since the last time he allowed himself the pleasure of sharing company with another, the issue of the curse and the stress of the Grove had made any sort of companionship less than a priority and something he easily could push to the side. However, since being in your company, the ease that he previously had at keeping others at arm length was becoming harder and harder to allow. 

It would be an understatement to say he enjoyed your company. Instead, you were someone he had craved. Every moment he spent in your presence was exhilarating, refreshing and addicting at the same time. The sound of your voice was symphonic, the way you managed to find joy even in the bleak lands of late and managed to keep a genuine smile on your face, given the worst of times, was inspiring. He craved your attention and longed for more than just your friendship for quite some time. It was an ache that tunneled deeper in his chest each night when his head went down to rest and the ability to continually push you away was becoming unbearable. The feeling of your skin against his always sent his heart into a whirlwind, fluttering in his chest like a butterfly tumbling in the wind. Halsin wanted so much more with you than mere companionship, but knew that now was not the time nor the place. Too much was at stake to allow himself distractions of the flesh, no matter how desirable they may be. So, as much as it pained him to do so, he walled himself off and pushed you away once more. 

“Perhaps another time.” He said simply, almost ready to pull away from your touch. His demeanor was stiff and cold, far from the welcoming aura he normally emitted.

You felt your heart drop, falling heavily into the pit of your stomach. Having realized that perhaps you had been lingering a bit too long, you pulled your hand from his cheek and returned them to yourself, awkwardly picking at your nails as silence between the two of you grew. You desperately tried to hide the feelings in you that were bubbling to the surface; hurt mixed with some sort frustration. Halsin was a tricky one to figure out. He was kind, caring, and truly wonderful company to have, but any sort of affection on your part was always met with the same rejection. Always gentle in nature, of course, but certainly there. You were fond of Halsin, more than just a casual friendship, but you were beginning to realize that maybe your feelings were one sided.

Halsin felt his heart stop upon seeing your reaction. You were quick to try and hide your disappointment, but it still managed to slip through for the briefest of moments. He knew you were fond of him, perhaps in more ways than one, and he would be a fool to deny he felt the same. You were precious to him, more so than any other he’d previously had the privilege of calling friend and confidant, and knowing that he had caused you even the quickest moments of sadness made him feel terrible. He wanted to reach up and take your hands in his and press his lips to your fingers, but you had swatted him away before he had the chance.

“Go on,” you said quietly, motioning in the direction of his distant tent with a few waves of your hand, “get some rest. I’ll keep an eye out for Thaniel and Oliver.” You took a step back, inching back as slowly as you could, waiting for Halsin to do the same. As much as you wanted to break through his exterior and get to the heart of whatever was causing him trouble, you respected his need to be alone, as much as it pained you to be kept at arms length.

With a slight nod of his head, Halsin made his leave, not wishing to turn this into a more serious argument. In his heart, he knew you meant well and also knew that both halves of the land spirit would be safe under your watch. He turned to return to his tent after you had also made your leave, walking to the opposite end of camp with a disheartened sigh. He made the agonizingly long walk from the center of camp to his secluded corner of the area in silence, tugging open the flap to his tent in a fluid motion. 

Halsin’s little plot of land in camp was quiet and tucked away from the other tents, offering as much tranquility as the shadow lands would offer, but was admittedly lonely. Despite choosing the spot himself, Halsin had recently begun to regret setting his tent so far from the others. Duty and responsibility came first, so jovial nights around the campfire passing bottles of wine were nothing if not a distraction. Secluding himself would keep him focused on the task at hand and, for now, thankfully keep him out of your sullied gaze.

Halsin stripped himself of his bands and bracers, tossing them into his bed space with a frustrated flick of his wrist. His boots and weapons were left by the entrance, out of the way but close by if they were needed in a hurry. He was frustrated with himself for just how desperately he wanted to be with you but not having the opportunity to do so. It would be a fools dream to think you would still be interested in him once the curse was lifted, considering just how long it would actually take, and now combined with the knowledge that he had wounded your feelings once more. His heart ached at the thought of knowing your delicate heart had been shattered so easily.

He cursed himself as he stepped inside, making sure to close the tent behind him. Halsin stripped himself of his armor, tossing the garments to the side so he could change into his usual night clothes. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, you were correct. Sleep was sorely needed and any sort of apology or resolution to this new problem would need to wait until morning. Halsin was having trouble concentration, not being able to focus on the task at hand. He ran his hands across his face and into his hair, lightly tugging at his scalp in the process.

With a soft sigh, Halsin laid himself on the ground, nestling his frame against the fabric of his bedroll as he settled for the evening. He shifted as he tried to find a comfortable spot, his shoulders rustling against the ground in an attempt to dislodge any loose pebbles or larger rocks that may be in the way. Eventually, he settled into a position that was comfortable enough for the evening, his hands and arms taking their place at his sides and his eyes closed so he could begin drifting off into a trace or, if he was lucky, a few hours of actual sleep. The rhythmic sound of wind rustling in the tree limbs and leave hanging above his tent and the low hum of sounds from the center of the camp should have been enough to lull him into the beginning phases of a trance, yet he found himself awake and unable to sleep. 

The usual intrusive thoughts were ever present, of course. The imminent dangers of the shadow curse, making sure Thaniel,  and now Oliver, were well and safe, even the mistakes of his past wove their way into his thoughts and sat heavily on his conscious. But tonight they were quieted and offered nothing more than a faint echo in his mind. Instead, his usual thoughts were being drowned out by something much more prominent and enticing to the forefront of his mind; you. Halsin couldn’t deny the impact you had on his thoughts, which had only grown increasingly more frequent and intense as each day passed in your company. Your kindness and eagerness to help others weighed heavily in his mind, but even more so on his heart. To say you were a delight would be doing you a disservice. 

And more than anything, Halsin wanted you completely. He wanted to be by your side in the upcoming fight against Ketheric and the Absolute, but he wanted everything else that came with that. He wanted to enjoy your company in a more intimate way; to be the one that kept your bed warm at night, to feel the brush of your lips against his, and the feeling of his body sinking deliciously into yours. He could imagine the tightness you would offer, the loving and welcoming warmth that would take him completely, even the sweet noises he could elect from you with the correct moments. He ached for you and that was a feeling that was growing with each passing second.

His eyes remained open, scanning the canvas ceiling of his simple tent as he allowed his mind to unwind in an attempt to drift off into a peaceful meditation, soon finding that his wandering thoughts found no purchase in their usual subject matter. Lingering regrets concerning Emerald Grove, the dangers ever present in the shadow curse, and now the problem of the growing illithid infection festering deep within Moonrise Towers were long forgotten as he focused on something much more pressing and mind consuming. Halsin was suddenly overtaken with the memory of your hands running along his skin earlier in the evening. He longed to feel your touch again, if even for a just passing second. 

Halsin focused his thoughts, doing his best to push you from his mind as he tried to settle for the night. You were right when you said he needed sleep and he tried his best to oblige in your request, but the image of you continued to gnaw on his psyche. You were infectious in that sense; able to burrow into his thoughts just as the tadpole had buried itself in your brain. He couldn’t think normally with you flitting around his thoughts like this, but could only imagine the sweetest and most sinful thoughts he’d had in long while.

Halsin’s eyes closed as he allowed himself to indulge in his fantasy, unable to shake the image of you from his mind. He imagined himself elsewhere. Far away from the shadows, away from the ever pressing darkness and chill the curse offered; a place that was warm and bright, nestled somewhere in a heavily wooded forest. Not the Grove, of course, for it was far too political and too demanding with little care going towards what actually mattered. But instead, he imagined a place where the shadows of the present ceased to exist and land could flourish in harmony and tranquility. Perhaps he was dreaming of a world of fantasy and indulgence, but it was a place that brought him inner peace. A gentle calmness washed over his racing mind, bringing the thrum of his heart to a slow, steady pace as he imagined his own back settling against the form of your body in this fantasy world he had created. 

He could almost feel the softness of your body against his back as he reclined against you, his large frame seated perfectly between your legs, his back resting along your chest while his head fit perfectly under your chin. From here, he could imagine himself getting lost in your gentle touches and soft voice. He found himself leaning against you like a drowsy cat in the mid afternoon sun, simply enjoying the warmth of your caresses as your fingers played with his hair, twisting and braiding locks between your fingers with ease. Your cheek rested along the crown of his head, all while soothing his worries with the delightfully gentle sound of your voice. Halsin smiled to himself within the confines of his tent, the image of you being the balm to soothe his restlessness. Instead of sleeping, he simply allowed himself to sink further into his imagination, bringing one of his arms from his side to rest underneath his head, his eyes happily closing as he relaxed into his bedroll once more.

Halsin then imagined your hands cupping his cheeks, mimicking your caress from earlier, your thumbs lightly stroking along his cheek bones with your fingers tracing along his lower lip and chin. You would whisper sweet things against his ear, smiling against the outer shell as your warm breath tickled against his sensitive tips and caused the skin along his neck to prickle. Your plush lips would lightly pepper his cheek with the most tender of kisses, tracing along the shape of his twisting tattoos at a leisurely pace.

The simple thought of having your lips dancing across his skin made his heart flutter in his chest and a light blush to begin forming along his cheeks. He turned his head on his pillow, as if actually giving you access to the tattoo along his neck would somehow manifest you beside him in the tent, but he had gotten too lost in his fantasy to try and rationalize his movements. With his face now turned from the opening of his tent, Halsin’s imagination continued on with his visions, his mind quickly imagining your lips traveling form his cheek to the bright red swirls adorning his neck as the tips of your fingers toyed with the scar that sliced into his lower lip. 

As time inched along at a deliciously slow pace, your demeanor changed. Your kisses were more firm now, making proper, lingering contact with his skin with each passing moment. A shudder rippled down the druid’s spine as he imagined your teeth lightly grazing the skin of his throat, quickly soothing it over with a swipe of your tongue. It wasn’t long before your hands left his face, bypassing his neck and resting near the height of his chest, your nails lightly grazing and stroking along his collar bones.

From the darkness of his tent, Halsin’s hand came up to rest atop his chest, faintly feeling his own steady heartbeat underneath his camp shirt as his thumb absentmindedly ran along the ridges of his attire and took note of the stitching and changes in texture, replaying the feelings that had begun to rise in his chest as you lavished his skin with your touch. Kisses soon trailed back up his neck and cheek, until the flat of your front teeth nibbled lightly against his earlobe. Halsin released a soft a gasp at the imagined contact, his shoulders briefly rising from the ground in excitement, only to settle back down once again.

“When was the last time you allowed someone to take care of you?” Your question from earlier in the evening echoed in his mind.

“Far too long.” He whispered on exhale, his voice low and deep as his tongue flicked across his suddenly dry lips. 

His hand slid across his chest slowly, feeling his way across his body with no sense of urgency or frenzy, simply savoring the feeling of contact against his body that was now beginning to burn with desire. Although these were typically feelings he would suppress when his mind was muddled with duty and responsibility, he allowed himself a quiet moment to bask in his thoughts. Halsin imagined it was your hand that was roaming along his sternum, trying his best to mimic the softness of your touch and mirror your prior movements. Even though his large, calloused hands were nothing like your much smaller and softer ones, the lust beginning to cloud his senses allowed the illusion in his mind to be enough to satisfy his meandering touch. A shuddered breath escaped his lips as the tips of his fingers lightly ran over one of his now hardened nipples, the bud pressing firmly against the interior of his night shirt. 

The sensations cascading over his body were almost electric, given just how long it had been since he’d indulged in a moment of self pleasure, and each touch and swipe of his fingers across his chest sent sharp bolts down his back and the heat that had formed along his cheeks to spread across his throat. Halsin’s hand traveled lower across his torso, pressing more firmly with each movement as he explored the expanse of his pectorals, still fantasizing that it was your hands worshiping his body in such a way; touching and caressing with a gentleness only you possessed, easily undoing his hardened resolve with the faintest tease from your fingertips.

“You’ll have to let me dote on you one of these days.” Your phantom voice whispered against his ear, almost shaking with your own desire as your hands continued to explore his clothed chest.

“Please.” His voice was almost a whine, the long suppressed desperation finally beginning to crack Halsin’s all too serious exterior. He answered honestly, finally letting what he’d wanted to tell you out into the open, even if he was the only one to hear.

Halsin envisioned both of your hands running down the length of his chest, your palms pressed firmly against his camp shirt as you made your teasingly slow descent across his torso. Your hands stopped midway, parting at his middle and moving to his sides before sliding up towards his neck once again. Halsin’s own hands followed suit, mimicking his vision as accurately as possible as the path you had created in his mind continued over and over again, each time reaching just a bit lower than before. 

By now, Halsin had gotten lost in his fantasy. His face and neck were now properly flushed, burning with a bright red instead of the light flush just moments prior. His ears burned with excitement and a light layer of sweat had formed along his upper lip, which was occasionally licked away whenever the druid tried to swallow his excitement. A flutter appeared in his chest each time he visualized your form above him, smiling down at him sweetly as your hands continued their exploration of his body. The flutter would skip on occasion if he ever indulged himself enough to imagine you leaning down over once in a while to peck his lips with your own.

Halsin’s thoughts broke momentarily as his fingers brushed along the upper seam of his trousers, making his lower body twitch and buck into the air at the contact. His eyes finally opened as he explored his lower half, glancing down to see that the whole of his now hardened and throbbing cock pressing uncomfortably against the confines of the leather pants. He tentatively ran his palm along the outline of his bulge, feeling how his aching length traveled along his mid thigh and twitched at his touch, stifling a moan at the contact. Halsin’s hand quickly moved to his opposite thigh, squeezing and stroking at the leg of his trousers while taking deep, slow breaths in a quickly failing attempt to take his mind off the intense need to touch himself more. As the throbbing in his cock turned into a much harder pounding, each exhale was met with a low rumble in his chest. His stiffened length strained against his camp clothes, making the sensation borderline painful as he continued his ministrations along his thigh and back towards his lower abdomen. 

A wetness began to coat his thigh where the tip of his cock rested, the head weeping early traces of his spend as it ached and begged for another touch. Halsin succumbed to his desires once again, slowly running his hand along his arousal in attempt to soothe the throbbing. This, of course, only encouraged the lust and desire to bloom more, making his trousers more and more uncomfortable the longer he palmed himself. Eventually the sensation was too much to handle, the desire and intense need for friction had grown too strong and there would be no chance of getting a second of rest until Halsin came to a release. 

It wasn’t long before Halsin began unlacing the ties that lay at the front of his trousers, his fingers shaking with need and fumbling with the tassels. With a frustrated grunt, he finally managed to roughly pull the opening to his trousers apart, almost ripping the eyelets from the fabric with the force behind the tug. His chest heaved with excitement as the cool air that seeped into his tent made contact with his now fully exposed length, which had already begun dripping his spend in anticipation for a touch.

Pretending it was indeed your hand instead of his, Halsin tentatively reached out and brushed his fingers across his hardened cock, electing a soft groan from the contact. His fingertips danced in the slick that had weeped from his tip and begun dripping down the length of his shaft, coating his fingers until they were well lubricated. He gasped softly at the touches, the feeling almost foreign to him considering just how long it had been since he’d touched himself. His hand eventually wrapped around the base, giving himself a light squeeze and squirming at the wonderfully prickly sensation that settled in his spine.

Your imagined figure hummed softly against his the crown of his head as your cheek settled there once again, nuzzling against him gently while you hand began to slowly stroke along his length. Halsin’s eyes closed again as his hand soon fell into a steady rhythm, pumping leisurely with his hand all while the opposite continued to run along various parts of his body. 

“Rest now,” you spoke sweetly to him, your voice soft and low, “I’ll take care of you.” Your thumb circled the tip of his cock, making him squirm against your phantom frame as well as against his bedroll. Halsin fully submitted to his fantasy and desires, his stoic nature dissolving more and more with each passing stroke of his hand. 

He felt wonderful, more than he had in quite some time. Stress and duty had weighed so heavily on him for many years, allowing guilt and an untold amount of pent up frustrations to build with no way of release. But now, simply lying alone in his tent and imagining your company in such a way was almost euphoric. The only thing that could have topped the experience would be to actually have you pressed against him. He not only wanted to hear your voice and feel your touch, but he wanted to smell your scent and feel the heat within your own body begin to build. Sharing a bed with you seemed like a distant dream, especially with how he had seemingly hurt you earlier, so dreaming of you seated behind him while stroking his cock would be the closest thing he could have to your companionship for now, if ever. 

His thoughts were broken as Halsin could almost feel your lips against his neck, leaving a trail of hot, wet kisses against his skin. He fantasized that you would even latch onto him every once in a while, biting softly and suckling against the flesh of his broad shoulder until haphazardly placed purple bruises began to form. He wanted to feel your arm draped across his opposite shoulder, letting your fingers toy with the hair on his chest that was beginning to crest over with sweat before pressing the whole of your palm flat against him and pull his frame into yours tightly. Perhaps you would even drag those teasingly deft fingertips of yours up his throat and against the bottom of his chin, tilting his head to face yours so you could plant sloppy kisses against his mouth. Your tongue darting across his lips, slipping skillfully into his mouth to lick across his teeth before tangling with his own. All of this happening in tandem with the strokes coming from your opposite hand, which would glide effortlessly and skillfully against his throbbing cock.

You would take your time in his fantasy, having nowhere to be and no mind flayer invasion to stop, giving you plenty of time to explore whatever your tender grasp could reach. Halsin tried to mimic the low, thoughtful pulls of your hand against his cock as best he could, trying to immerse himself as best he could in his thoughts. Pleasant tingles ran across his lower abdomen the further Halsin reached into the opening of his trousers. He continued until a significant portion of his forearm had slipped beneath the fabric, the flaps on the opening of his trousers brushing against his elbow as his hand loosely gripped the base of his cock. His grip tightened as he drug his hand along his length, cupping the head with an almost painful grasp before releasing back down as he returned down again.

Halsin’s legs began to bend at the knee, having previously been laid flat from his attempt to trance, and he placed his feet flat against the ground. The muscles in his thighs began to tighten the longer he stroked his hand along his length, his hips starting to writhe under his ministrations. Halsin ran his thumb over the slicked, weeping tip of his cock, his head arching against the pillow of his bedroll as a desperate groan formed in his chest. The sound caught in his throat, dying down before it could escape his lips, for which he was thankful. In this moment, Halsin didn’t want to be found. Instead, he wanted this moment to last as long as possible, where he could exist in his sinful fantasy until his duties pulled him into the realm of reality once more. He couldn’t afford for a stray cry or moan to slip through the opening of his tent and bring forth the whole of camp to his abode.

It was a selfish thought, but one that the elf embraced with all his might. He wanted, if not needed, this moment of self pleasure. To bring himself to a blissful release with you in the center of his minds eye. There were parts of him that protested and urged himself to stop now, but he carried on, stroking his cock at an increase paced with each moment that passed. Just one moment; one precious, well deserved moment is all he needed to release many weeks worth of pent up frustrations and desires and set his mind right once more.

Halsin’s nails roughly scratched along his chest, digging into the thick fabric of his camp shirt as a wave of ecstasy washed over his belly, making his stroking stutter briefly. His hips lifted from the hard ground, bucking upwards to meet his hand and the mental image of your own. He dreamed of your legs swinging over his hips only to press firmly against his own squirming legs, keeping the thick walls of muscles in place to allow you to continue your stroking and pleasing at your own pace without him interfering, which had significantly increased since his visions first began. It wouldn’t take much to over power you and reverse the roles, given his size. To pin you beneath him and take you properly would be an easy feat, but one he did not want to act on. Instead, deep within the confines of his fantasies, Halsin wanted you to take control and dote on his aching body as you had suggested earlier in the evening.

His heart ached at how badly he wanted you to lead him to orgasm by being the one in power. He had spent the better part of a century leading others and having to be the one to bear the crushing weight of responsibility, even when he didn’t want to. But now, lying on the cold floor of his tent, he relinquished control and let you have your way, even if it was only in his mind. 

Your hand had begun to pick up speed, not quite frantic, but much more than the easy pace you had previously set. Although not knowing much about your previous experience with partners in such a situation, simply seeing how skilled you were in battle with a sword as well as how nimble you were in combat told Halsin all he needed to know about how wonderful you were feel. You would be firm in your grasp, yet gentle enough to not cause harm. Your wrist would flick in just the right way so you would tug gently along his cock while allowing him to feel every bit of your fingers and palm as you continued in long, fluid strokes. You were compassionate enough to listen to worries and fears in camp, so there was no doubt that you would listen to his moans and gasps and adjust your pace or grip accordingly; slowing down with a looser grip if he came too close to completion or speeding up with a tighter grasp if he bucked against your hand for more contact. Generous with his pleasure, yet fully in control and taking the weight of responsibly away from him so Halsin could simply enjoy the feelings festering in his body.

His free hand quickly left his chest and clamped into the fabric of his bedroll, his grip hardened and his knuckles white as the string of pleasure that had been woven in his belly was pulled taught, teetering on the precipice of snapping. Halsin’s hips bucked wildly into his hand, taking his pleasure based more on touch than the actual imagine of you in his mind, although that did not deter him from thinking of you. You were there, holding his large frame against yours, pressing his back into your chest firmly as your hand pumped along his throbbing, aching cock as a fevered pace. Your voice was in his ear, panting white hot breaths against his skin as your voice dripped with your own ecstasy. You begged him to release, to spill his seed against your hand and take his pleasure how he wanted. His incredibly hazy mind imagined you coaxing him along, telling him just how desperately you wanted to see and feel his orgasm ripple through this body. How you wanted to feel his tired muscles twitch and shake as he finally released himself for you.

Sweat dripped quickly from his temples, running along his neck where you could so easily lick it up for him if you were actually there in his tent, stroking his cock from behind as you whimpered and whined sweet promises in his ear. You would offer to clean the mess that was made before laying him down and letting him find pleasure within your body. Halsin could practically feel the heat radiating from your body while his mind burned with desire, imagining your own expression to be blissed out and hazy in anticipation of finding your own orgasm simply from witnessing his. He desperately wanted to watch as you unravelled for him, brought to the brink just from how you touched along his body and whispered in his ear. 

You would seat yourself nicely atop him, fingers gently clawing down his chest as you sunk down on his cock, your own breath heaving as toyed and teased him. From here, his hands could roam your body as he pleased, touching and caressing every bit of your body. Halsin wanted to run his hand along your stomach and chest, inching upwards until his thumb reached your lips, dampening the digit with a swipe of your tongue in a similar matter to how you had earlier in the evening. He could see your hips rolling against his, head thrown back as you gasped for air, teetering on the edge of being in completely control to losing every bit of sense you had while riding out an orgasm.

The disciplined portion of Halsin’s mind that had yet to be fogged over with desire argued with the fire burning in his belly, causing a battle in his mind over what was morally right and what was physically wrong. He wanted you more than anything he’d wanted in so very long, yet Halsin did feel a twinge of guilt in his self pleasure in knowing it was your image that was bringing him so close to release despite the sadness in your expression only moments prior. What would your reaction be if you could see him now sprawled on his back in the solitude of his tent, arm buried deep in his trousers, palming his strained cock at a fevered pace all while imagining you? He would like to think you were be flattered, but deep down he knew you were would be disappointed, disgusted even. To have the courage to turn you down repeatedly, sending you away from him time and time again, yet thrusting into his hand to your image like an animal in rut would be a slap in the face. 

He could feel his pleasure mounting, his cock twitching and throbbing against his hand as his body prepared to spill his seed along his hand and stomach while whimpering your name. A few more strokes would be all he needed to finish, to finally release the built up feelings he’d harbored for so, so long. His legs shook, hips thrusting wildly into the air as his free hand trembled in excitement and small moans slipped into the air. However, the more rational portion of Halsin’s mind finally took control, stopping him before he could finish. 

He flipped over quickly, pressing his stomach firmly into the ground beneath him, trapping his violently twitching cock between his body and the fabric of his bedroll, still wrapped tightly by his hand. Halsin’s hips stilled, his head coming to rest atop his free arm as he caught his breath, the closeness to orgasm slowly ebbing away the longer he stilled. Ragged breaths tore from his lungs, panting into his pillow as he released a frustrated shout, letting the fabric beneath him muffle the majority of it. He was frustrated, angry even. He wanted, if not needed, to complete his task and feel an orgasm finally tear through his body, but he couldn’t allow himself to continue. 

It would be wrong, he decided, to finish the deed. The urge was only natural, but not like this. He had allowed himself to be distracted enough as it is as well as causing you harm, so he deemed himself unworthy of a wonderful release. It needed to wait until after the curse had been lifted and he had gotten in your good graces again, if possible. As much as he wanted it now, he knew that waiting until things were right would be kinder to his conscious and even more blissful once he could finally release.

Halsin remained in his spot, his breath slowly regaining a normal speed as he allowed his orgasm to ebb away. He could feel the more frequent feelings of frustration begin to fester in his mind once again, his still throbbing cock sitting in his hand certainly didn’t help matters. Neither did the sudden sound of your laughter breaking through the silence of camp, making its way to Halsin’s secluded tent off in the distance. The melodious sound of you enjoying yourself made Halsin grind his hips into his hand, causing him to moan loudly at the feeling. Your laughter had spurred him on once more, the idea that you had found joy once again this evening and possibly not sitting somewhere upset due to his actions brought back the feelings of lust. 

Each little snippet of sound he could hear from the far off center of camp made him thrust into his hand even more, particularly if your voice seemed closer than before. Halsin’s breaths had become deeper and heavier with each downward thrust of his hips, the occasional muffled cry coming from his throat if his hips came down at just the right angle. His fingers curled tightly into the fabric of his pillow, his nails threatening to rip the material apart the closer he came to his release. His muscles were wound tightly, rippling across his back with each roll of his body against his own hand and into his bedroll. By now the fabric of his camp shirt had been soaked with sweat, the material clinging to his body and creating new sensations across his skin as the friction increased. 

Halsin’s fogged mind imagined it was you clinging to him instead, your hands sliding against and caressing his arms and back as you were pressed firmly beneath him. The sweat that rolled lazily down his neck was your tongue lapping at the tender parts of skin and the feeling of his ragged breaths beating against his pillow and recoiling to touch his face instead your own sweet breath panting into his mouth. With eyes shut tightly, Halsin’s hips increased their speed and began audibly slapping against the slick that had coated his hand, letting anyone who came close to his living quarters acutely aware of what his was doing from within the confines of his tent. His moans had become more audible, his senses having long been lost.

Your name tumbled from his lips as his release drew closer, saying it over and over again as if he were begging you to let him finish. Each time he said your name he imagined his own name coming from you, being panted in his ear as he trust into you, your bodies colliding into each other at a fevered pace. He could feel your fingers intertwining with his hair, tugging at his scalp as you moaned and cooed in his ear. Your voice wavered as you whispered for him to release, Halsin imagined you growing closer to your very own peak as you encouraged and begged him to finish for you. And much to his happiness, it was long before he obliged your request.

With a final heavy thrust and one more warbled cry of pleasure, Halsin’s orgasm washed over his body in searing hot waves of pleasure. Halsin’s body stiffened with his orgasm, curling in on himself as his spend finally shot from the tip of his pulsing cock. His grip tightened around his length, feeling each spurt that erupted from his tip land across his hand onto the bedroll beneath him, the occasional rope landing somewhere along his abdomen if his cock twitched at the right time. He let out a gasping breath with each passing release, each one decreasing in intensity as he rode out the last remaining moments of his orgasm.

After the last ropes of his spend were spilled onto the ground beneath him, Halsin took in a final sucking breath, utterly spent and exhausted. The ironclad grip he’d previously had on his pillow finally released, the same hand pushing up his weight so he could sit up and rest on his knees. His opposite hand released his length, now quickly softening as he came down from the high of his orgasm. The druid still struggled to catch his breath, his chest slightly heaving as he wiped his hand clean with the edge of his blanket before resting both hands on his still trembling thighs. He took another deep breath in, his head falling back against his shoulders as his eyes closed until he was facing the ceiling of his tent. 

By now, the illusion he had created for himself had faded. Halsin was no longer seated happily in a tender patch of grass nestled between your thighs, but was instead alone and hovering over his bedroll that rested on a rather hard bit of earth. The warmth of the sun kissing his face had been replaced with the coldness of the shadow curse and the darkness of the inside of his tent. The tender caress of your wonderful hands along his body was now nothing more than his own guilt and shame clawing at his heart once again. He heard nothing but howls and screams in the distant shadows instead of the soft, intoxicating sound of your voice against his ear. The heat from his skin was beginning to dissipate as well, allowing the coolness of the night air to lick at his exposed skin. 

With a soft sigh, Halsin opened his eyes, disappointed to not be greeted with the image of your face, although not entirely surprised to only be greeted with the tattered fabric of his makeshift home. Despite being still sensitive to the touch, Halsin tucked himself back into the confines of his trousers, lacing the ties on the front with a slight hiss at the contact. He wiped the sweat from his upper lip with the back of his hand as he looked at the mess now waiting before him. Not wanting to deal with the aftermath of his self pleasure, Halsin simply rolled his heavily soiled bedroll into a tight bundle, tossing it to the back end of his tent and decided to either clean or dispose of in the morning. 

He pulled open the flap of his tent, letting in the last remnants of light from the campfire into his abode as he prepared to finally rest for the evening, the exertion from his orgasm having finally worn him out enough to indulge in a bit of sleep. He shivered at the abrupt feeling of the cool night against the warmth he had created in his tent. The camp had gone quiet, the rest of his companions having seemingly turned in for the night, and the earlier sounds of children laughing and animals barking seemed to be silenced as well. Halsin brushed the straw bits of strained that coated the floor of his tent into a smooth layer so he would have a bit of cushion against his tired bones. He had finished smoothing down the outer edge when something small caught his eye. 

Sitting neatly beside his discarded camp gear was a small bowl of stew, still billowing steam from the surface. Halsin simply stared at the bowl, which had been placed on a small saucer with an accompanying spoon and a hearty chunk of bread. It didn’t take much thinking on his part to know you had been the one to leave the bit of supper by his tent, although he couldn’t be quite sure when you had dropped it off. He had admittedly been too caught up in his fantasy to begin to hear you shuffling about outside, which made him question just how much of his guilty pleasure you had heard. 

Perhaps you had herd nothing and merely wanted to leave his undisturbed under the pretense he was asleep. However, the much more likely scenario considering just how hot the stew was, was that you had walked up right as he was chanting your name while at the height of his pleasure. He felt an all too familiar heat creep up his neck as he eyed the bowl. He sat back on his knees once more, a light chuckle leaving his lips as he imagined a dozen scenarios he’d be having with you come morning. But for now, Halsin simply took the bowl of stew in hand and ate it quickly, ready to finish his meal and finally take a bit of well deserved rest.

Tag list: @thoughts-of-bear @mothermoth92

[inaconstantstateofchange]

okay so when reading the final chapter of svsss volume three, the interactions between yue qingyuan and tianlang-jun are so—

Shen Qingqiu wanted to say something when Tianlang-Jun raised his chin, squinting at Yue Qingyuan. “I remember you.” After thinking for a bit, he said with conviction, “Back then, the Huan Hua Palace’s old geezer wanted you to help him with the ambush, but you ignored him. So you’re the current sect leader of Cang Qiong Mountain? Not bad.” “Your distinguished self’s memory is also quite good.” Tianlang-Jun smiled and smiled, then gave a sigh. “If you were also trapped in a pitch-back darkness for over ten years, unable to glimpse the sky or sun, with nothing to pass the days but for reminiscing over past affairs, your memory would be quite good as well.”

tianlang-jun remembered him, and while yes, it's clear he has a pretty good memory and might also be using it as a way to throw his potential enemy off-balance, it is still a very interesting way to go about it. and the rejoinder yue qingyuan sends back at him, perfectly polite - even respectful! - totally unflappable—tell me you do not see the potential there!!

but never fear, if you are not yet convinced, i have more:

Tianlang-Jun continued to sit upon his stone, completely at ease. “I remember that you also waited until the last moment to draw your sword that day,” he said to Yue Qingyuan. “Doing the same now?” Yue Qingyuan didn’t answer.

tianlang-jun remembered a lot about yue qingyuan, even small details like his sword, and the actions he took (or didn't) upon the day of tianlang-jun's betrayal. to me, this reads as though, even then, he took note of yue qingyuan's power as something to look out for. he is also, despite all of the other people around, primarily engaging in conversation with yue qingyuan.

Tianlang-Jun pulled his hand back and smiled. “Honestly, in the beginning I had no malice, nor did I find fun in the idea of the world burning. I only occasionally crossed the border, coming here to sing songs or read books—it was quite nice. However, since I’ve already been in residence beneath Bai Lu Mountain for so many years, if I don’t follow through on something along the lines of your thoughts, I’d truly find my circumstances a bit too unjustified.” Yue Qingyuan flicked his finger. Xuan Su sprang three inches from its sheath, its spiritual energy seething. The bones of Tianlang-Jun’s body cracked and popped, almost like his joints had been dislocated. He made a sound of surprise. “As expected of a sect leader. Not bad. Your master was quite mediocre but had quite the eye for disciples and successors.”

okay first of all, the tension here is remarkable, and second of all, the compliment at the end—tianlang-jun, for the power level we know he possesses, is being practically effusive with his praise of yue qingyuan's strength something we know to be greatly prized by demons.

this segment follows the previous directly, but i had to give it it's own spotlight, for reasons that i hope will be readily apparent:

Then Tianlang-Jun reached out and grabbed Xuan Su’s blade directly, as if he couldn’t feel a thing. “But why not draw it all the way?” he said with a smile. “You can’t do anything to me with only this much.” Yue Qingyuan’s gaze hardened, and Xuan Su jumped another half-inch from its sheath.

tianlang-jun: oho, you'll need more than that much to handle me, big guy

(jokes aside, considering the rampant spiritual energy of xuan su, described as so powerful as to be oppressive in volume 2, and the susceptibility of demons to spiritual energy, tianlang-jun is truly doing the absolute Most™ right now.)

... moving decidedly away from jokes now, this is one of the most pivotal lines for them, in my opinion. it comes at the conclusion of wu chen's reveal of the betrayal-that-wasn't, and how su xiyan chose death over bringing harm to tianlang-jun, only for it to find him regardless:

“It wasn’t that she didn’t care about you, but that she was without alternative. Yet the world is pitiless, and so you passed each other by…” Tianlang-Jun’s lips seemed to tremble slightly. A long moment passed. Then he said, “Is that so?” Right after those three words, he asked again, “Truly?” “This one swears upon his life that his words contain not a single falsehood,” said Master Wu Chen. Tianlang-Jun turned his head to look at Shen Qingqiu and Yue Qingyuan. As if seeking confirmation, he asked, “Truly?” He didn’t even care whether someone was in the know; he was just asking anyone he could. Unable to say anything, Yue Qingyuan silently lowered his head. It was unclear what he thought.

it is clear that the tragedy of su xiyan and tianlang-jun was one that yue qingyuan felt keenly, not only for his response here, clearly processing some significant emotion, but also for the way that he used the same words to describe his relationship with shen jiu just a short time later:

“I really…didn’t mean to not return,” said Yue Qingyuan. “Only, it really is true that the world is pitiless, and so the two of us passed each other by…”

pardon me while a cry a new freshwater body into existence.

there is truly so much more that can be said about what makes these two a great fit for each other, especially in a canon-adjacent/post-canon scenario, but i'll save that for another day. for now, i will let these excerpts speak for themselves.

[hana-no-seiiki]

BROKEN EXPECTATIONS, NEW ASPIRATIONS (I/III)

⟣┄─ ˑ 𝐈. ✧ yandere! batfam + dc heroes x yandere! alien! reader (ft. ocs of mine, and other dc characters)

synopsis: you weren’t as innocent and benevolent as they thought you were, but that just makes things all the more exciting

tw/cw: dddne, reader is yan (platonic for this part, romantic for future parts(diff people). yandere themes, general violence, torture, sadist reader, incest (one-sided/not reader n it’s a brief mention so it’s not a main part of the story oh god-). reader is half based on jingliu/jingyuan from honkai star rail + laezel from bg3 worldbuilding. and there’s also a bit of malenia/miquella inspirations. reader has a background. reader’s alieness is explored/talked about. op! reader. wish fulfillment.

in short this was an oc insert of mine that i reconfigured for you guys to read. not your thing? scroll past thenks.

[next]

YOU HAVE ALWAYS BEEN THE KINDEST, MOST LOVING PERSON THE BAT-FAMILY EVER KNEW. You were so gracious with your benevolence that each and every vigilante took it upon themselves to take care of you at all moments lest you fall into unsafe situations or the hands of people who would ruthlessly take advantage of you.

Eventually, they forgot the fact that you were the sibling of the notoriously violent DAYBREAK, a vigilante that could be easily called a villain or terrorist instead if it weren’t for his close affiliation and friendship with the old Teen Titans crew when he was younger. He helped once in a while, but only if it meant he had free rein to cause carnage.

“This is useless, they won’t fess up.” Jason grunted as he fumbled around with his weapons, all broken after the battle just moments prior. Aliens and their abilities always made him feel so small in the grand scheme of things, and especially when they completely obliterated his entire arsenal.

Tim groaned, his back ached from the amount of times he was flung away towards whatever wall or ally the enemy wanted him to go to. He was used to being man-handled and even enjoyed that once in a while, but not in that way. “Aren’t they one of your kind? Cant you like… I don’t know…”

Your brother huffed, a pout on his pretty features. Quite similar to yours. Yet, he doesn’t spare the rest a glance. His eyes were trained solely on a restraining spell he managed to conjure as a last ditch attempt to stop the fight before it got . . . irreversible. Usually he’d just disintegrate whatever or whoever even looked at him wrong but even this titan-like intruder was proving to be a pain in the ass. “I can’t believe you, doesn’t mean we’re the same kind or whatever that means that—“

“He’ll be lucky to be even considered as one of us, filthy —“ The massive form spoke. Its metal like body clanging as it struggled in the spell’s area of effect. A soldier from your home planet, not as well trained as your brother — but he was brimming with aetherial ardor. A sort of magic source your people used.

“Okay, that’s it.” [Brother’s Name] groaned, summoning the last piece of his strength to open up a terminal. “Hey mooncake, need ya to do something for me.”

“No, we aren’t letting [Y/N] anywhere near this one. They could get seriously hurt. We were barely even able to—“ Dick held him by the shoulder, only to get burned by your brother’s leaking ardorial energy.

“Relax. Besides I’m not in your team. I don’t have to follow orders from you.”

“Daybr—“ Rachel, her cape almost completely burnt and tattered opened her mouth to admonish him.

But the sound of your sweet voice (more like hoarse, and half awake) silenced them all, “What do you need help with this time?”

“[L/N] don’t listen, go back to sleep, beloved.” Damian moved in from behind, learning from Dick’s mistake and instead using his blade to warn [Brother’s Name].

But if anything, that made the man more excited to annoy the “demonspawn”.

“Oh, mooncake you can’t believe who I stumbled upon today! Smile for the camera why don’t you?”

[Brother’s Name] flipped the terminal to show your face.

“You’re . . . General [Y/—“

And then flipped it back, showing his injured body. “He hurt me real bad. Look.”

Your face does not move nor your voice waver,

“Come back to the base.”

“No.” Black Canary, Dinah, slammed her hands on the table. She couldn’t believe this. It was already bad that they allowed you to be involved in their line of work, now they were letting you come face to face with a being that almost wiped an entire team of experience fighters? What were they thinking?

“That . . . thing is dangerous. We cannot allow this to continue!” Arthur concurred. He saw the state of your brother. A civilian like you had no business with something so dangerous.

“Unfortunately I have to say no to your refusal as well.” You calmly responded, “This situation is under the jurisdiction of the Fleet. It is only right that Daybreak and I deal with it.”

“Father you can’t possibly allow them.” Damian gripped your shoulder as he pleaded with Bruce. He had known you the longest next to Tim. You were barely able to hold your own as a normal student. Not that he was looking down on you, but if you couldn’t even fight for yourself in conversation, how could he let you be around that monster?

Bruce closed his eyes in deep contemplation. He studied your kind comprehensively. He did so for every vigilante and villain alike (Contingencies were his specialty) From how your magic system worked, to how society and customs were like. A lot of his knowledge came from Clark, who had also done his fair share of investigative work into your background.

He of all people in this line of work knew how dangerous you and [Brother’s Name] can be. He had done his calculations based off of what Daybreak could do. But curiosity drove him further.

“Fine.”

“Father!”

“But the whole league will be watching you, alongside the Young Justice and Teen Titans.”

“Sheesh, overkill much?” Daybreak, now plain [Brother’s Name] in a bunch of casts, piped up.

You nodded, quite honestly just aching to get out from this stuffy room already. “That is fine.”

Before you left, you head swiveled to take one last look at your sibling, building up whatever emotions you needed to see the job through, “Get some rest, brother.”

“Are you kidding? I gotta watch this.” Your brother laughed in earnest, almost-too-wholesome-for-him manner. You managed to understand why as his eyes scanned the people in the room.

He wanted to see them react to your true nature.

Your form finally disappeared from his sight as his eyes finally settled on another image of you glued atop a folder. “What are those?” He pouts to gesture at the objects, too injured to move his limbs.

“Files on [Y/N] and the being.” Bruce answered, opening up the screens for the cameras to the interrogation room.

[Brother’s Name] knows you’d give him a sermon for using his powers while he was already banged up but he had no choice. His arms were too broken to open up the folder after all. “You guys work quick.” He commented as the papers levitated and flipped through itself.

His eyes scanned the typewritten document swiftly, smile growing by the moment, “Pffft — kind hearted soul? Who wrote this?”

“It was compiled by me, but our sources vary from vigilante to civilians.” Clark mumbled. As one of the only other aliens, and people who could feel aetherial arbor. He felt your presence, your anger leaking earlier. It was heavy, as if the world was suddenly placed upon his shoulders. Yet he felt no fear for his own safety, only yours.

The gigantic door before you slid open revealing the enemy the vigilantes struggled to subdue earlier.

The soldier stood upright, sensing your presence. The rumors were true it would seem. Many wouldn’t be able to spot it, a testament to whatever you did to conceal your prowess, but they immediately recognized the magnitude of your ardor practically oozing around you.

He was expecting your anger. He knew of your protective nature towards your brother.

“My apologies.” But you didn’t. Instead you began nursing their injuries, repairing their armor, and even initiating casual conversation. “It must have been a long journey. I can’t help but resent whoever sent you here.”

“Your Excellency! I came of my own volition.”

“Oh? But judging from your armor you must be one of the knights.”

“Yes, 512th Squadron of the Imperial Army.”

“Of course, my eldest brother’s . . . “ Your fought to keep your hands from clenching. A gentle smile on your features remained unshaken even by the sudden revelation.

“Y-yes, your Excellency. It took many jumps for me to get here on my own.”

“Alone? What did you wish to come here for?”

“I-I wished to meet you but those Earthlings wouldn’t let me.”

“Mm. And so you fought them. As is right for one of our kind.” You brought out a handkerchief and wiped down your hands after finishing the task at hand. Then you took a seat in front of them.

“You understand! Of course.”

“Actually I came here to bid you to return. The Emperor misses you dearly and wishes to see you.”

“Do you know why he does?”

“N-no?”

You looked down. Voice soft, relaxed shoulders, a solemn tone, and a tremble to add on top. “My brother. He wishes to have a child with me. To use my powers in the form of a future heir to the throne.”

“I am not quite ready to have a child yet.” Nor were you interested with being a babymaker for that tyrant. But that wasn’t an appropriate excuse in the grand scheme of things.

“I understand! Your Excellency is quite young and even then, you have saved countless of lives. You deserve only to do as wish and nothing less.” The soldier slammed the floor in front of it. “Besides, his Majesty had already taken so many concubines I’m sure an heir wouldn’t be needed anytime soon.”

You nodded. A moment or two of silence for your mind to recollect everything that has been said before you execute what you came here for in the first place. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. “How incompetent must the new Imperial General be at the moment?”

“Pardon?”

“Information is the most valuable asset to any sort of battle. As a general I kept a tight leash on it. Lest it spilled and caused unnecessary ruckus.” My knights were drilled, put through fire and blood, wiped clean before they were thrown back into hell again. And most importantly they were taught to sew their mouth shut or die. You, you just spilled everything I needed to know the moment I showed that I cared.”

“Your Excellency, I —“

“I was only going to punish you for trespassing. A measly act of destroying your Aetherial Helix.” “But in all honesty, I might be doing that brother Emperor of mine a favor by going . . . further.”

“N-no, you wouldn’t, you’re—!” The soldier was about to defend you even in its dying moments. But as it truly recounted all that has been told about you from its peers and seniors, it realizes one truly fatal fact.

You were never known for benevolence.

“Please! I did this all for you! I only wanted you back as my General!”

“Let this be a lesson.”

“No, please ! I- I - I beg of you—“

You looked up to the ceiling, beyond it — the stars and the infinite darkness you once called your home.

“And so I’ll continue to wield your blade, until I cut the stars from sky. I will protect you even from the gods I serve.”

You chant. The blood on your hands once again becoming too visible and distracting.

“Thank you for your service, soldier.” You deeply bow your head to the disintegrating corpse beneath you. Allowing the fallen's drained life essence to cover your forehead. [Brother Name] smiles. To others it may seem to have been a sign of respect — but to your kind, you were simply absorbing the spoils of battle. Taking in the dead and disgraced's remaining imprint on this world.

“My deepest apologies for the mess and time it took. The matter has been dealt with.” You returned. The blood, having dripped down your face, had dried and turned dark.

“I hope this has not soured your view on me.”

“Not at all . . .” Tim was the first to speak at your return. His fingers unconsciously replaying the footage of your . . . execution. Millions of questions already shot across his head as he was eager to probe you on them one way or another.

If anything it only made their obsession with you worse.

“Let me be your sinner, brother. This oath I shall never forsake.”

[sirenscriptures]

⋆⭒˚.⋆ angel dust — s. ryomen ⋆｡˚

synopsis: he couldn’t believe the day you’d fallen down into his home. it was such a dark place, filled with such voids that most would consider horrifying. but you…you seemed to brighten up those areas just with your presence alone … 3k

before you read: fem-bodied reader, fallen angel ! reader, kind of counts as monsterfucking??, corruption, breeding, size difference, true form sukuna, soft to rough-ish sex, mainly soft sukuna, some asphyxiation, oral sex, cock worship.

author comments: if you’ve seen this before, don’t fret. this is a reupload from last year that came from my previous blog <3 also, i would greatly appreciate any feedback on this idea. it was very well received on ao3 and i’d love to know what you think of this idea!!

there was a biting cold air spilling throughout the dark, enormous malevolent shrine that evening. it was odd, since the deep marrows and walls of the domain usually seethed with a heat that seemed closest to what hell would feel like.

quiet as usual, his looming figure sat high within the mouth of the gaping shadows that swallowed the entire space. mountains of bones sat him as his throne; rotting and decaying ones piled at the root, whilst the more robust collection of ivory spines and jaws crowned the top.

even if his gaze read otherwise, he knew something strange was circulating. the domain no longer felt as though it could hold him, yet he didn’t know why. where it usually felt so hollow and barren, it now felt heavy, as if there were something weighing directly on its surface.

sukuna could feel the tension slithering up his arms. his usually harrowing eyes were now darting around, frantically checking each and every wall, crevice and shadow like a madman.

however, standing up was worse. immediately as his feet met the surface, a painful spasm rippled through his head, his hand smacking against his forehead in response. following the sudden pain, a high pitched ring bulleted through his ears.

he let out a yowl in reaction, his entire core tensing in near unbearable pain.his body heat felt like it was burning him alive, and the entirety of his muscles felt as though they would cave in on him at any given moment. it was as if his whole body were crumbling away, alike to the bones at the very bottom of his throne.

what in the hell is wrong with me…?

with no time for another thought or exclamation, a sudden, nearly blinding light glistered over his entire vision. it was like a lightning strike when it cracked down upon a tree. but upon the impact, the light expanded outward, casting a permanent coat of shining white over what used to be orifices of shadows.

the light only lasted a few moments before slipping away, the shadows eating at the remaining whiteness casted in the malevolent shrine. but for sukuna, it felt like ages before the piercing brightness faded away.

hiding away his face in the fabric of his robe sleeves, the pain in his body from before had completely vanished. he felt now that he was in one piece, and that everything was mostly back to normal again.

that was, until he looked in front of himself.

in front of him was what looked to be a pile of white sheets strewn about messily into a wrinkled pile.

with him still trying to adjust his eyes from before, it was still a bit of a blur. the flash from before had strongly impacted his vision for a good few moments before he could truly see properly again.

but when his vision did clear, he was certain he’d been hallucinating. his eyes widened as he realized.

in front of him lay an angel…one with battered, gently stained wings. they looked to be twisted, as if they’d been purposely bent and misshapen by cruel hands.

the little clothes that they wore were torn, stained with some sort of black, ash-like debris, as if they’d been caught in some sort of smoke or fire.

now fully adjusted to the sight, he saw the faint, aura-shaped glow that was cast around their body. the dim light shifted in and out of different hues; appearing like the breathing leaves of a tree at one moment, and like ocean waves the next, transcending on and on into different textures and colors in only a matter of minutes.

even for him, the very king of curses, this was a truly mesmerizing sight. in all his time, he couldn’t ever recall encountering a fallen one.

but that didn’t stop him from wondering just how in the world a creature like you had slipped into his domain.

sukuna’s barrier was stronger than any other domains in existence. only he had the power to call upon it when he wished to trap his victims inside of it. no one could get in or out without his calling to it, and that was always how it worked.

truly, it made no sense how you’d landed here. it shouldn’t have been anywhere near possible, but he’d have to face the facts that it was now.

breathing out deeply, whatever soft expression he previously had, he quickly wiped off. whilst admittedly fascinated, sukuna wanted no more unexpected visitors lurking here. it wasn’t worth any risk, even if he could deal with any type of intruder.

walking towards your body, he stared down at you for a moment, pondering. the idea of seeing a real angel so up close, enough to where he could touch it and see all of its features, felt somewhat dangerous to him.

standing so close created ripples of tension in the air, and he could feel it. it was nearly overbearing, to a point where he almost stepped back. but he stood his ground, not wanting to lose this moment.

gently, one of his hands grasped around your shoulder, rolling you onto your back. seeing your face now, it was hard for his eyes not to narrow.

sukuna had never seen something so beautiful. being asleep and trapped in bottomless darkness for years upon years with nothing but gruesome history and deeds, made him realize just how much he failed to see from the world around him.

he knew very well that there was a world outside of his domain where time was constantly working. where lives ended and began within every passing hour. where every single person, organism, ecosystem and cell worked to keep the cycle of living and evolving forever flowing onward, until there would be nothing left but dust floating about an empty space.

did he care for it much? of course not

out there, he was feared. the very syllables of his name invoked terror into any normal human that lived today. and that didn’t bother him in the slightest. it was a title that contributed to who he truly was: the king of curses.

but this moment that lay in front of him felt much different than just the outside world. just by looking at you, it was clear you falling down here carried much more volume than if a regular human were to fall into his domain.

it was when he began to pull you into his arms that your eyes flicked open. being cradled within four arms was a feeling he only half expected you to react to, but it was still surprising for both of you.

at first, sukuna expected you to flinch away from him. maybe even throw yourself away from his grasp. after all, it only seemed appropriate to him that an angel would fear the initial sight of a curse of his stature.

it was the stare you gave him that threw him off the most. your eyes were brilliant; the color in resemblance to the hazy aura that surrounded your body after the fall. but looking deeper, it seemed like you were...admiring him?

the softness in your gaze couldn’t be described in any other way. it was painted with innocence and light, something that was so foreign to sukuna.

despite the unfamiliar soft feeling blooming within his chest, his expression remained strong, revealing little emotion to you at first. with his eyes fully fixated on you, he smirked.

“i take it you’ve lost your way?” he asked in his low, sonorous voice. red eyes blinked down at you, the contact unbreaking.

when he was met with silence, it wasn’t a shock. angels weren’t so common with the earth language as many others thought they were.

instead, you blinked back at him, that same look in your eye as he remained holding you in his arms. even though he understood that you weren’t vocal, he could begin to feel that same tension lingering in the air once more.

“you really did a number on me when you fell down here.” he chuckled, assuming the pain from before was caused by the impact.

something within your gaze flickered as your hand reached up towards his face. his first instinct was to flinch away or tense up, yet…he didn’t.

your caress on his face was gentle, so loving, it was enough to make him feel like warmth was rushing through the tips of your fingers. sukuna hadn’t felt such a sensation in an eternity. in all of his long life, he couldn’t remember ever feeling a touch as gentle and as ethereal as this one.

it truly amazed him. he’d been so used to fighting, that he forgot what a real, physical loving touch had felt like against his skin. especially in his true form, he’d never felt so many sensations coursing through him at once.

the tension only stretched once he noticed you hadn’t broken eye contact. usually, others would shy their gaze away in fear. but, with the way you looked at him, it was almost as if you were trying to persuade him to look at you.

the way you smiled at him, and the way your body was so relaxed in his grasp…something was drawing him in so deep, that he completely ignored the fact that your faces were now drawn so close together, his breath warm on your skin.

you could feel sukuna start to tense up against your body. he wasn’t saying it directly, but he hated appearing as though his walls were tumbling down. the mere idea of being vulnerable was nauseating to him. but sure enough, it was gradually spreading through him like a slow-killing virus.

for a brief moment, something switched within him. it was a sudden feeling of his normal self coming back to him.

suddenly, he placed you back on the ground. he initially wanted to turn his body away from you, but you stopped him. your hand clasped gently around one of his wrists, a slight pleading look in your eyes. you stood close to his body, battered wings flecking about torn and tangled feathers.

sukuna turned to look at you, slightly amused. if anyone else had done that to him in his domain, he could have their arm sliced off in a matter of one glance.

“what now?” he asked gently.

he almost made a smart remark following his inquiry, until your hands gently started to roam over his body.

slowly, your gentle touch sent that same euphoric sensation through him, causing his breath to hitch. the tenseness in his muscles seemed to be washed away by the feeling as your touch traveled to his waist.

he could feel your breath growing heavier by each minute that passed. your head leaned into the deep crook of his neck, hands admiringly slipping over the bulges of muscles and scars on his skin.

looking back at you, he huffed, that devilish smirk spreading slightly over his lips once more. his large hands crept over your waist, scraping the loose clothing off of your body, leaving you more vulnerable than him.

before you could react, he’d pulled you into his grasp once more, his lips connecting with yours. his tongue aggressively slithers its way into your mouth, causing you to whine.

when pulling away, a string of saliva trailed between both of your mouths, eventually dripping down your breast.

seeing your bare figure so beautifully displayed in front of him, sukuna can’t help but feel like he needs more. that feeling from before was now a craving that he felt wouldn’t be satisfied until he’d had every part of you.

leaning back to sit, he placed you conveniently onto his lap, undoing his robes. you could feel the warm excitement pulsing through you, and you were certain he could feel the same.

those dark eyes fixated on you so strongly, you felt as though he could see through you. he pulled you close to him again, his hand trailing down in between your legs.

you latched onto him in surprise when the mouth on his palm began to lap and lick at you from below. you let out a trembling whimper, wrapping your arms tight around his neck.

sukuna chuckled darkly. “now i’ve found what you like, haven't i?”

it wasn’t long before you were wet enough for his fingers to slip in between your snug walls. you could feel your legs beginning to shake uncontrollably as the mouth continued to suck and slither its tongue inside you, whilst his two fingers pumped into your wetness.

he was fascinated by the feeling. even just a mere two fingers had some struggles fitting inside you. but the way you swallowed him in so well down there made him throb.

fuck…who would’ve thought i’d get to ruin a sweet angel like this? he thought to himself. just the feeling of the dripping warmth around his fingers could drive him mad.

promptly, sukuna removed the rest of his robes, his full body exposed to you now. looking at you, he watched your eyes widen at the sight of just how big he was.

he smiled amusingly, taking your face into one of his hands gently.

“there’s nothing to be afraid of, dear.” he murmured, pulling you into a deep, long kiss.

your little whimpers sent waves of arousal through him. you were so fascinating in all ways…he just couldn’t get enough of you.

before he could do anything else, you positioned yourself beneath him, kneeling right where his thighs were.

he looked at you, confused. he could see that you appeared nervous. compared to sukuna, you felt so small. he was a giant, and you both knew that. but there was an instinct for you to serve him, even if it was just for a little while.

suddenly, you’d begun to take in one of his members into your mouth slowly, your tongue snaking around the tip.

sukuna let out a rumbling groan, muscles back to tensing and pulsing with excitement. even the feeling of your mouth was amazing…so soft and welcoming to his cock.

his head tilted back, the feeling of you sucking at him sending his mind into a blur. it was unfathomable how good you could make him feel, all with simple gestures.

after a few moments, you’d stopped. sukuna looked down at you, panting slightly.

it was the sight of you kissing his cock that made him realize what you were doing. trails of kisses led all the way to his pre-cum coated tip. your hands gently massaged and caressed his skin, humming with pleasure as you did so.

pulling you up to his lap again, he pulled you extra close, breath now hot against your neck. sukuna couldn’t keep his mouth from yours. his large hands groped at your breasts, the mouths engulfing your skin.

he loved the sound of your moans flowing into his mouth as he prepared his cock at your entrance. you sounded so meek, and at the same time desperate. as if you’d wanted more of him, which is exactly what he wanted from you.

sliding in wasn’t easy for him. not even half had slipped into you, and you were already holding onto dear life, clawing at his shoulders and wincing, tears starting to stream down your cheeks.

he cupped your face in his hands, holding you gently. “shhhh, it’s alright.” he assured.

he placed one of his hands on your chest, the thump of your heartbeat racing wildly. staring into your eyes, he never broke his soft stare, his member still partially stuffed inside you.

“breathe for me.” he murmured, hand remaining on your chest as he breathed deeply with you.

slowly, it eased its way past your walls, the warmth now engulfing him. sukuna leaned his head back, groaning.

“fuuuck…” he hissed, feeling the fluttering of your walls around him.

he looked up at you, seeing how tense you’d become. his hands gently rubbed up and down your back, soothing you to where you would relax once more.

accidentally, his hands traveled to your wings. at the initial touch, you let out a cry, but not out of pain, out of pleasure.

once again, fascination overcame him. while he started to pump himself in and out of you, his fingers gently massaged the silky feathers of your back, watching as your head and eyes rolled back.

his pace grew faster eventually, balls slapping against your flesh, your moans sobbing out of you louder. meanwhile, sukuna’s hands roamed all over you, caressing every part of you that he could.

as he fucked you, the tongue on his stomach swirled in delicate circles over your protruding clit. he could feel every part of you begin to tremble. it felt like you were about to break at the seams.

he growled out huskily as his hand wrapped around your throat. slaps rang out as he fucked you, echoing throughout his domain.

he looked at you with hooded eyes, admiring the glassy-eyed look of exhaustion and arousal that you had.

“cum for me,” he stammered out. “let me hear those pretty moans of yours…”

you could feel the pleasure washing over you, head throwing back as you let out a final cry.

with a few thrusts, he could feel his seed sputtering deep inside you. his last thrusts made sure everything stayed inside of you, filling you up as much as he could. the feeling of your warmth and fluids mixing together nearly sent the both of you into a trance.

but for sukuna, he was more entranced by you and you alone. he had yet to understand how an angel like you had fallen down here, but he figured he didn’t have to understand everything right away.

all he truly cared about now was possibly keeping you down here with him. it didn’t fully make sense at first why he felt such a drawn protection over you, but now he saw just how special you were.

holding you in his arms, he couldn’t help but smile watching you doze off, head resting against his chest as you listened to the soothing sound of his heartbeat.

written by sirenscriptures. do not repost on any other website. do not translate, copy, or use.

[evilminji]

Behold! o/ The Face Of Benevolent Evil!

Mr. Principle! A professional hero and educator!

Also possibly some sort of stoat hybrid! Certainly a chimera of Japanese fauna! With the Quirk High Specs, he is one of, if not THE, smartest beings on the planet of which he resides! With a background perfectly justifying a decent into hatred and villiany, he instead chose to channel his incredible world shaking intellect into the shaping of future generations!

He likes to fuck with people!

For FUNSIES~☆!

What can he say? It keeps a man young and mentally stimulated! Plus the hysterical screaming of his staff and students is HILARIOUS. He can even argue it makes for good reaction training! Unforseen situations, children! React!!! *psychotic chortling*

Mmmmm, yes. We all have our trauma responses. Ways we deal with them. He should probably find other means... but he won't! Tea and tormenting the student body make for good future heroes, you know! They adapt!

But! You may ask! Why am I introducing you to this... *polite yet somehow deeply threatening smile* c-completely sane and normal individual!? Esteemed educator that he is! Ha ha...

A good and not at a under threat question!

Villains? Are fuuuuuckin STUPID!

Doesn't matter how many PHDs you possess! In fact! That makes it WORSE! You moron! You absolute fool! No traveling circus would have you, you sub-rate CLOWN of a jingle jangle dunce jester! You have a god damn PHD! Possibly MULTIPLE PHD!

And you thought "ooooh I should go into cwiiiiime~☆"?

Do you hear yourself when you talk? DO YOU?! Ooooh boohoo. They won't let you study what you WANT to study. It's called an ETHICS BOARD. And YEAH, NO SHIT! Maybe get over it and keep you fucked up fantasies to your SELF.

Or? If you REALLY can't hold it in? Lay the ground work like EVERYONE FUCKING ELSE! You're not special! Everyone wants to play god! It's FUN! They let you have the COOL toys! But you have to EARN that shit! Not jump straight from graduation to "fucked up superscience"!

And? If it's NOT the Ethics Board? But just some bureaucrat on a power trip? You don't have to fucking STAY. This? This RIGHT HERE? Is why I-Island fucking EXSISTS.

APPLY.

They are SO MANY countries you could move too. SO MANY other labs. You actual DUMBASS.

But NO! You decided to commit to a fucked up underground Villian Lab. As though HUNTING THOSE isn't the PERSONAL fucking passion project of THE SMARTEST BEING IN JAPAN. Frankly? You deserve this. You deserve this and our school doesn't know you. Never heard of you. You whoms't?

Coulda changed the world. But instead all you did was piss of The Fuzzy White Demon Lord of UA. Rest in pieces. *click*

*sound of doors smashing open*

*violent Raid Upon Your Labs noises*

But! You may ask? What's IN the Lab?

What MAKES this a DP crossover?

I like your question asking spirit! Good one! And the answer? You know what's better then ONE(1) Nedzu? A second one that you can ACTUALLY control this time! After all! You could consider Mr. Principle a prototype. A proof of concept, if you will. If you were able to make ANOTHER.....

Well, you would set off EVERY. SINGLE. ALARM. Nedzu has set up!

All of them!

Because he don't PLAY THAT.

He has long last trauma from the labs and is the SOLE FUCKING SURVIVOR. There WERE others. They Did Not make it. And their slow agonizing deaths are carved into his brain for the rest of his life. Truely "The living shall envy the dead"; it was a place that made hell seem merciful.

When he declare Never Again?

He fucking MEANT Never Again. He will BURN your empires to ash, with you in them. No More Labs.

So :) You can IMAGINE :) HOW HAPPY HE IS :)

That someone out there is trying to RECREATE his SUPER traumatic childhood, on ANOTHER CHILD. Ha ha! Gonna be a second Nedzu huh? Planning to torture HIM like you did me, HUH? Shove him in a cage and treat him like an animal? Force him to watch as the others die? Collars and whips and cattle prods? Mazes?!

Nedzu may lose his shit.

Juuuuust a little bit.

But if anyone there knows what good for them? They saw NOTHING. What's a little PTSD flashback between friends? Now what is the baby?

Smashcut to said baby!

Because it was a TEAM effort, Danny was successful in "Nuh Uh!"ing out of Rulership. But NOT out of governance. Since he DID help. He's a Councilman now. It's? Not as bad as it could be, honestly. Since it's opened the Zone up to a more democratic system.

Still held by "kick the ass of the person you wanna replace" but still!

Babysteps.

Thing is? There was apparently this weird? Leak? Like a couple hundred years ago, in this one area, that was never addressed. Everyone just moved their doors and stuff. Treated it like the floors flooded. But now that they HAVE someone to complain too?

They all want their territories back.

"Go fix it!" What are we? Janitors?

Danny looses the rock, paper, scissors competition. He's pretty sure Boxy cheated. But like? Dude has a kid to go home too, so Danny doesn't fight him to hard on this. Uuuuuugh. Just remember the Spider-Man motto. Great power~ blah blah blaaaah~

And? Wow is it fucked out there.

The whole PLANET has to be limnal as FUCK. Yikes.

Problem is? When he and his team (Because YES, he HAS learned from his mistakes, Jazz.) get close to the... frankly the Zone here looks like distorted spiderwebbing. With him leading the charge, obviously.

....something happens.

It's... it's not a portal. Wrong color. It's like someone USED the weird spiderwebbing effect to... to reach INTO the Zone? But they are severally Limnal. Clawed hands, blue tint. But that's not the problem.

No, the problem.

The Horror.

The thing that his team can only watch on in agonized terror as it plays out... is that hand? It shoots out of nowhere. Ghostlike in the Zone. Meaning it must be living. And PLUNGES directly into Danny's chest to wrap around his core.

Time seems to slow.

He can't even scream in pain. At the violation. His team, acquaintances, yes, but friendly ones. Can not even cry out in horror, as they watch their friend and team lead be butchered before them. Before that uncaring hand is ripping back. Perfect ice and starlight in its uncaring grip.

For a terrible moment... he is in two places at once.

Then he is crushed in a burning grip. Like molten bars. Watching his own body dissolve into nothing in an instant, pain and horror still etched upon his face. The beginnings of screams ripping from his team as they jerk away from the nightmarish threat.

Then he can not think at all.

He... he TRIES. Knows he has been captured. Is certainly not the sort to give up easily. But... he's so tired. His body feels? Weird. Not wrong, per say. It's HIS. But... small and weird. Like he's shape shifted into a new form and hasn't adjusted yet.

....

.......

...........

He's getting really sick of all the goop against his whiskers and in his ears. It feels WEIRD against his fu- WAIT a second... did those assholes shove him into an animal? Why?! To contain him? Ha! Jokes on them! He's DONE THIS before!

For FUN!

He once spent a whole ass summer as a tiny dragon just 'CAUSE!

Unfortunately, said assholes notice him waking up. Dump him in a glorified hamster cage. But like.... a SHITTY "I don't care about the pet I bought" hamster cage. Dude. And he's naked.

Is that Japanese? Ooooh! It IS! Thank you, Tucker's Weeb phase.

......actually, never mind. Lotta dehumanizing language there, my guys. What is this? The GIW international? You couldn't even give me PANTS? Swear to God, call me an "it" ONE more time and the next time I have to go? I am going to aim through the bars at your-! *alarms going off*

....wasn't me.

I mean, be all means, ha ha and get fucked, but? Wasn't me. Oh hey! Some one exploded the doo-

AND? In Lab 4?

Nedzu finds a child with fluffy, ungroomed black and white fur, and the curious yet cautious eyes of a survivor. They are the most magnificent green, pale and luminous they glow in the laboratories lighting. Paws too big for his small frame, delicate ears on the swivel, equally large. Yet to grow into either. Adolescent, at best.

He watches the child take him in. Note his features and the chaos behind him. The injured scientist under his feet. Come to him conclusion. Nedzu will not rush him. Now that he... he stand the chance to be the hero he himself never had. It is a strange feeling. At once cathartic and unbearably painful.

He is given the equivalent of a cheerful grin, as the lad points the the lock on the cage. Is asked if he happened to bring a spare pair of pants. He can not help his amused chortle as he makes quick work of the lock. The unbearable RELIEF he feels.

He... he was not too late.

These monsters had no chance to crush the boy's light. To make a monster of him, like they did with him. He survived his laboratory, his hell. But not all of him left that terrible place. He knows that. Some innocence, some goodness, died alone in the dark. But here? He insured there would be no chance.

With amusement, he watches the boy turn the lab upside down until he finds spare scrubs. Triumphant, he then considers his own, tiny claws. Dismisses them. Attempts to hop up on a chair to retrieve something sharp. It? Is unbearably cute. To watch him rip and shred, problem solve. His little mind churning away. Whiskers twitching as his eyes dart around, considering his options.

Nedzu offers one of his spare knives.

Watches him light up.

Adorable~

@legitimatesatanspawn @hdgnj @nerdpoe @babbling-babull @lolottes

[undeadcourier]

Ghouls are, put simply, humans suffering from advanced, prolonged radiation sickness and whose bodies have mutated such that gamma radiation extends their lifespan past natural limits.

The process of ghoulification is outlined in canon sources, but I wanted to make a guide that goes into more detail on the effects of radiation sickness in various cases, since the level and type of exposure significantly affects the outcome.

This is the first in what will be a series of posts exploring both real-life cases of radiation sickness and the sci-fi concept of ghoulification in some depth. Graphic descriptions of the physical deterioration of the body are included for informative purposes; reader discretion is advised.

For this first case study, I examine the effects on the human body of exposure to high levels of radiation in a short period of time, with a focus on the real case of Hisashi Ouchi.

On September 30, 1999, a lack of appropriate safety measures and the proper materials resulted in an accident that caused three workers at the nuclear power plant in Tōkai-mura, Japan, to suffer from severe radiation poisoning while purifying reactor fuel.

Point of Criticality

An uncontrolled fission reaction was produced when technicians poured nearly seven times the legal limit of uranium oxide into an improper vessel containing nitric acid. The men reported seeing a bright blue flash—indicative of Cherenkov radiation—when the mixture reached critical mass, flooding the room with radiation. The workers evacuated to the decontamination room, but already, the two who had been handling the reactive solution were overcome with intense pain from radiation burns, severe nausea, and difficulty breathing. Hisashi Ouchi, who suffered the highest level of exposure, also experienced rapid difficulties with mobility and coherence. Upon reaching the decontamination room, he vomited and fell unconscious.

~1 Hour Post-Exposure

Ouchi regained consciousness in the hospital about 70 minutes after the criticality accident, where doctors confirmed that he had been exposed to high doses of gamma, neutron, and other radiation.

The maximum allowable annual dose of radiation for nuclear technicians in Japan was 50 millisieverts. Exposure to more than 7 sieverts is considered fatal. Yutaka Yokokawa, the supervisor, had received 3 sieverts. The technicians who had been handling the uranium, Masato Shinohara and Hisashi Ouchi, received 10 sieverts and 17 sieverts, respectively.

~1 Day+ Post-Exposure

During the first few days in the ICU, Ouchi appeared to be in remarkably good condition, given the circumstances: the skin of his face and right hand was slightly red, as if by a sunburn, and swollen. His eyes were bloodshot, and he reported pain under his ear and right hand, which had received the most direct exposure, but he could speak normally, and he joked with the doctors and nurses attending to him.

6 Days Post-Exposure

Tests revealed that the high energy radiation that Ouchi had been exposed to had obliterated the chromosomes in his bone marrow. They were unrecognizable—some severed, some fused, all out of order. This damage meant that his body was unable to create new blood cells. The red blood cells that transport oxygen could not be replaced, and Ouchi's white blood cell count was near zero, leaving him extremely vulnerable to infection.

~1 Week+ Post-Exposure

Intensive treatments, including numerous skin grafts, blood and bone marrow transfusions, and revolutionary stem cell transplants were conducted in an attempt to stabilize Ouchi, but ultimately without lasting success.

The skin grafts couldn't hold; when medical tape was peeled from his skin, his skin came with it, and the marks left behind couldn't heal. Blisters like those of a burn appeared on his right hand.

Ouchi reported frequently that he was thirsty.

~10 Days Post-Exposure

By this point, Ouchi's oxygen levels were so low that even speaking required tremendous effort. Ouchi was placed on supplemental oxygen and required sedatives to be able to sleep.

2 Weeks+ Post-Exposure

Ouchi was no longer able to eat and required an IV. By day sixteen, most of the skin on the front side of his body had fallen off.

His low platelet count and lack of healthy skin meant that his blood and bodily fluids leaked through his damaged pores, resulting in unstable blood pressure.

Donor stem cells that were meant to allow his body to create new tissue were also destroyed by the radiation present in his body.

~1 Month Post-Exposure

On the 27th day following the accident, Ouchi suffered from intense diarrhea. The mucus layer of his large intestine had vanished, exposing the red submucosal layer beneath. His body could no longer disgest or absorb anything he ingested; even water was excreted as diarrhea.

The skin of Ouchi's right hand was almost entirely gone, leaving the surface of his hand raw and dark red. Blisters spread across his right arm and abdomen, then over his entire body. Gauze was required to replace his skin, and his fingers had to be individually wrapped to prevent them from sticking together. Without skin to keep him warm, Ouchi required an electrothermic device to maintain his body temperature while his bandages were changed—a daily procedure that took hours. Every time the gauze was removed, more of Ouchi's remaining skin went with it. His eyelids could not shut, and his eyes bled. His nails fell off.

Ouchi's right arm was necrotizing, leading to an increasing amount of myoglobin—a protein in muscle tissue—flowing in Ouchi's blood. Untreated, this could result in renal failure as the kidneys could not process the amount of myoglobin present.

Ouchi's body could not regenerate the platelets that form scabs, meaning the risk of hemorrhage was extreme.

By day 50, more than two liters of fluid seeped from Ouchi's damaged skin each day. The amount of fluid prevented skin grafts from adhering. Furthermore, he began to suffer from blood in his stool, and permeated blood seeped between his inflamed small and large intestines.

2 Months+ Post-Exposure

On the 59th day after the accident, Ouchi suffered the first of many heart attacks. His kidneys and liver were also failing. He no longer showed reactions to stimuli.

By day 63, Ouchi's macrophages—the immune cells that normally attack and consume bacteria and viruses—were attacking his own healthy blood cells.

After 67 days, Ouchi suffered internal hemorrhage. He bled from his mouth and intestines.

Ouchi would continue to suffer from heart attacks, as many as three in one hour. Each time, he was revived, but he suffered increasing brain damage, until multiple organ failure ended his life after 83 days in the hospital.

Ouchi's colleague Masato Shinohara underwent numerous successful skin grafts and a stem cell transfusion as well as radical cancer treatment, but he, too, died of multiple organ failure after seven months. Their supervisor, Yutaka Yokokawa, was treated for minor radiation sickness and was released from the hospital within three months of the accident.

This detailed chronology was referenced from the book A Slow Death: 83 Days of Radiation Sickness by Iwanami Shoten, translated by Maho Harada. My post, of course, focuses on Ouchi's physical condition in his final months, but it’s important to remember him not just as a victim or a patient. He was a loving husband and father whose sense of humor and resilience left an impression on everyone he came into contact with. The book is available in its entirety here and provides a moving, nuanced account of the incident and the efforts to save Ouchi's life.